


Nevermore

by BtchesLoveCannons



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: AU, Angst, Doctor!Grell, M/M, Non-Explicit Child Death, Sebastian is a bit of a creep, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-08-22 11:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 57,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8283497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BtchesLoveCannons/pseuds/BtchesLoveCannons
Summary: Ciel is adopted by the Phantomhives at the age of thirteen after being raised an orphan. He soon learns the family has dark secrets and the butler is more than he seems. Also, the butler seems to have taken an interest in him that isn't completely innocent. AU.





	1. Chapter 1

Usually, the view from window was one of heavy clouds and rain. The city below was full of open umbrellas and fools running out of the cool showers as though they would drown. Today sunlight streamed into the small, grimy room. Ciel preferred the gloom. It did not bring false brightness to a dark place and illuminate the dirt that seemed to find its way into every corner. He wondered how the place had not been shut down yet, but then that was how the system worked. Best to turn your other cheek to a place like this than have to take responsibility for its residents when it was shut down.

The doorknob being turned drew his eyes from the window. He stood up from where he had been curled in the window, as it was never wise to be in a vulnerable position when someone enters the room. He straightened his back as the facility's nurse appeared in the doorway. 

“Ciel, someone wants to meet you.” Her face was heavily lined but her brown eyes were kind. 

His stomach knotted. He hated those words. It wasn't often that someone took an interest in a thirteen year-old but when they did, he had to work that much harder to keep them from wanting to take him home. He had five years left and each year there were less people who wanted him. Once he was eighteen, he was free. He just had to fend off the bleeding hearts who wanted to adopt the poor, half blind orphan boy. Their pity made him sick.

He followed the nurse down the creaking wooden stairs, and she gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze as they parted ways at the man office. In front of the door was the man in charge of adoptions, Mr. Spears. He was always eager to farm Ciel out to some lonely family if for no other reason than to get the young teen out of his hair. Ciel had made quite a name for himself at the orphanage as being solitary, cold, and dangerous. No one touched him, hardly anyone talked to him.

“These are nice people, you shouldn't be so hasty to run them off,” Mr. Spears said, opening the door.

Ciel smirked and walked past them into the room. He had to admit, the man and woman on the couch were beautiful. The woman had cerulean eyes not unlike his remaining one, and the man was as sleek and dark as a raven. Mr. Spears introduced them and Ciel discovered their names were Vincent and Rachel. The woman had the same doe-eyed, glowing look of admiration all the other would-be mothers did who met him, but the man measured him with an expression that was hard to read.

“Hello, Ciel,” Vincent said, and his calculating stare melted into a warm smile.

That smile called forth a strange feeling, one Ciel had never experienced. The woman was still smiling widely and for a moment Ciel forgot what he was going to say. It was something callous and rude but the words died on his lips. He was pinned down by Vincent's dark eyes, and the knot in his stomach had unwound into something much more disconcerting, a sort of fluttering. 

He readied his most scathing greeting, but all that came out was, “Hello.”

Mr. Spears, still lingering by the door (as it never took long for him to have to hold it open for the people Ciel scared away), arched an eyebrow in surprise. Everyone was even more surprised, though, when tears welled in Rachel's eyes and she said, “He's perfect.”

 

The next few days were surreal. Ciel felt as though he was waking from a dream when he finished packing his few belongings. He really had agreed to this. The couple had asked if he wanted to come live with him, and some small child deep inside him had risen up and said yes. He stared into the cracked mirror on the wall. His eyepatch had been fraying around the edges for years, and his dull slate hair lay unkempt around his face. He fingered the studs in his ears that he had pierced with a stolen needle from the infirmary. Rachel and Vincent were a well dressed, refined couple, what on Earth did they want with him? He would suspect trafficking but Mr. Spears dug into the deepest corners of his applicants lives and if he'd had the slightest suspicion about them, Ciel never would have been called to his office. Mr. Spears didn't seem to care about the orphans but he was dedicated to his work nonetheless.

A few people watched Ciel walk down the hall with Mr. Spears with unmasked surprise. An equally aloof boy named Snake was whispering to an older redhead with purple eyes and a full busted woman who had been there as long as Ciel could remember. He thought her name was Mally, but he had never been bothered to find out. Making friends in a place like this was poor judgment. Relief, confusion, and envy were among the emotions he observed from the people watching him go. 

He was suffocated by Vincent and Rachel's excitement as they left the orphanage. Ciel looked back and saw Mr. Spears at the bottom of the stairs with the closest thing to a smile he thought the stoic man could manage. He looked up to the window he had spent many years in, watching the city and its people. He'd had every intention of going out into that city and making his own way when he turned eighteen.

Rachel was rambling about how much he was going to love his new home but he was focused on keeping his breathing even. His plans had changed drastically in a short amount of time and he was working to stifle his anxiety. Vincent said something about Funtom toys but Ciel had grown up without toys, he didn't care much for expensive ones. The children had to share the toys at the orphanage and Ciel did care for tedious practices such as sharing. 

His eyes were fixed outside the carriage. The scenery had been changing for quite some time, and he was snapped from his reverie when his view began to change to one of a sprawling estate. His eye widened as the horses galloped down the long drive. He had thought the carriage elaborate, but never had he entertained such a vast manor. He knew Mr. Spears had mentioned his new parents' full names at some point but he hadn't been paying attention.

The carriage came to a stop and the door opened. A white gloved hand helped Vincent and Rachel out, and its owner came into view. Ciel stared out of the carriage at a tall, immaculately dressed man with startling dark red eyes. He looked at the gloved hand for a long while before he realized it was meant for him. 

“I'm fine, thank you,” he muttered, and stepped out unaided. 

The man bowed. “Welcome to the Phantomhive manor, my young lord. I hope the preparations I have made for you are satisfactory. The lord and lady have been most excited for your arrival.”

He stood back up and Ciel discovered just how tall he was. Then it dawned on him. Phantomhive. He had been adopted...by the Phantomhives. They owned the most successful toy manufacturer in Europe. He collected himself and followed Vincent, Rachel, and their butler inside. He did not want to seem awestruck and fought to hide his amazement at the size of the manor. He knew estates of this caliber existed, of course, he was as well read as the orphanage's small library would allow, but it was quite a shock to know this was where he would be calling home. 

“Do you like it, Ciel?” Rachel asked, a nervous smile on her face.

“It's extraordinary.”

She clapped her hands together happily, and Vincent said, “The rest of the servants are tending to their duties right now, but let me introduce you to our butler, Sebastian.”

“Ciel,” he introduced himself.

The black haired butler knelt, and took Ciel's hand. Ciel started and made to pull it away but he was locked down by Sebastian's eyes on his. Sebastian held his gaze as he kissed his hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, young master. I look forward to being in your service.”

A flush had crept up Ciel's neck to his face. He stammered a response and jerked his hand back. There had been a strange tugging just behind his navel at the touch of Sebastian's lips to his skin, discomfort at being touched, he assumed. He made haste to follow his new parents upstairs to see his bedroom. Though the butler had been nothing but courteous, he was eager to escape that crimson stare.

He supposed he had to get used to it. Sebastian was the family butler, and Ciel was a Phantomhive now.


	2. Chapter 2

Ciel spent his first week with his new family feeling like a prized pet, what with the way everyone made over how cute he was. The servants adored him. They were a useless lot, though. The maid had broken two china sets just in his short time in the manor, the gardener had killed the fresh herbs, and the chef had nearly burned the kitchen down. The only one who seemed to possess any competence was Sebastian who Ciel strove to avoid even more than the others. 

The night of his seventh day came with a rapping on his bedroom door. He cursed himself for the little leap his heart gave. Every night Rachel and Vincent would come to tell him goodnight and his second night, she had read him stories until he fell asleep. It was all quite maudlin and he hated how much he enjoyed it. Things of this nature were not built to last, something he reminded himself often, lest he get too accustomed to this new life.

“My lord?”

He paused in unbuttoning his shirt. Rachel had quit sending a servant to help him bathe and dress for bed, as he always sent them away. He didn't let anyone except his new parents touch him and even that was seldom. The last person whose hands he wanted on him were those of the butler, who was now in his room.

“Sebastian,” he said.

“The lord and lady had to run a late errand, I saw you were up a bit later than usual.”

He had walked over to the side of the bed and Ciel drew his feet off the floor to put some space between them. “Just how often do you walk past my room in the evenings?”

“I am the last to complete my duties, I'm often awake much longer into the night than the rest of the house. Besides, my lord, my chambers lay just across the hall from yours,” Sebastian said with a chuckle. “The lord and lady like to have me close should they need anything.”

Ciel's cheeks brightened and he looked away, embarrassed to have been so presumptuous. “Of course.”

“I brought you some chamomile tea to help you sleep.” Sebastian lifted the cup and saucer in his hands with a smile.

“Er...thank you. Leave it on the bed stand, I'll take it after I've dressed for bed.”

“Allow me.”

Sebastian's hands were warm against his neck even through his gloves as began unbuttoning his shirt. His head was down while he focused on this task, his hair falling to obscure his eyes. Ciel was glad of this. He had frozen at Sebastian's touch and could not quite find his words as his shirt was opened further. His brain finally caught up as Sebastian pushed the shirt down his arms and the cool air of the room washed over his chest.

“S-stop,” he said, pulling himself backward on the bed.

Sebastian cocked his head to the side, something dancing in his eyes that Ciel could not and did not want to identify. “Master?”

“I prefer to undress myself. Thank you for the tea, that will be all.”

His voice was stronger than he felt. The dismissal was clear, and Sebastian rose to his feet. He paused at the door to bow and say, “Ring if you should need anything.”

Ciel did not reply, just stared at his feet until he heard the door close. He raised the teacup to his lips with shaking hands. Sebastian hadn't done anything wrong, he supposed. People of wealth and nobility rarely dressed and undressed themselves. Yet everything about Sebastian was wrong somehow, just the sound of his voice seemed lewd, the brush of his gloves on Ciel's bare stomach had felt scandalous. There was an air of mystery about his person that made all his actions appear to be executed with an ulterior motive.

He hastily dressed for bed and blew his candle out. The tea remained on the stand, half finished. Ciel closed his eyes, but behind them lurked the image of a piercing red stare and his ears rung with a voice as smooth as spun silk.

 

“Let us make tonight something of a gala,” Vincent decided.

“Oh, lovely.”

Ciel looked between them over his plate of breakfast, which he had pulled close to his chest and hunched over slightly out of habit. No one here was trying to take his food but it would take awhile for him to get used to that. He finished his last sausage and asked, “This will be a gala for adults, then?”

“Don’t be silly, we wouldn’t dream of excluding you. What child doesn’t want to dress up and dance the night away?”

This one. “Er…very good. Thanks.”

He stared at his empty plate, mind racing with a way to escape the evening’s festivities. Of course he didn’t want to dance the night away, he couldn’t bloody dance. His parents didn’t seem to realize orphans didn’t get the luxury of tutors and instructors. He pushed his plate away, suddenly nauseated. Did they not see how different of a world he came from? If they did see it and realize he didn’t fit into their lavish lifestyle, would they still want him? Even though not two weeks earlier he had been determined not to leave the place, his stomach churned at the thought of being returned to the orphanage. He decided not to tell them he was ill-equipped in skills and began thinking of a way to avoid dancing.

“Ciel?”

He jumped at Vincent’s voice and found his parents staring at him. “Sir?”

“You’ve been staring at that same pile of crumbs and syrup for five minutes. Would you like some more?”

“No, thank you, I’m quite full. Excuse me.” He almost ran into Sebastian who was stacking their plates to take them to be washed, but he didn’t look back as he made for the massive staircase.

After a couple tries he found the library. They had shown it to him on his tour of the manor but it was all a maze of hallways, none too easy to navigate. He began scanning the shelves and stacking thick volumes in his arms. Something in here had to be of some use. He strained onto his toes and reached for a book that looked particularly helpful, but his fingers were just shy of being able to grasp it. He cursed and tried to get higher on his toes while imbalanced by the books piled in his arms.

“Why, that’s no language for a young man,” said a familiar voice, and a white glove hand reached over him and plucked the volume from the shelf.  
Sebastian took the books out of his arms and sat them on a table. 

Ciel folded himself into a chair and opened the first. “What are you doing in here?”

“You seemed distressed when you left breakfast. Forgive my intrusion.”

Knowing Rachel had probably sent Sebastian to check on him, he said, “It’s alright.” 

This must have been taken as an invitation to stay, as Sebastian walked over to examine the book that had been out of Ciel’s reach. “The Art of Dance?”

“I am interested in the subject,” Ciel said stiffly.

“What coincidental timing, that you should take an interest in such a thing the day of a ball.”

Ciel ground his teeth, temper rising. This condescending bastard. “What of it?”

 “I simply wish to tell you this literature will teach you nothing of practical use. Dance is an art indeed, and cannot be learned from these pages.”

Ciel slammed down the book he was reading and glared up at the butler. His chest rose and fell quickly as the anger that had been building there was reaching its peak. “Then what do you suggest since you seem to know so damn much?”

Sebastian clucked his tongue. “Language, my lord.”  
He walked over to Ciel’s side of the table and extended a hand. Much like when he had first arrived at the manor, Ciel stared at it with confusion. Sebastian wore a serene smile that was not much less unsettling than the predatory smirk that usually graced his features. Ciel made no move to take his hand.

“Allow me to tutor you,” Sebastian said, at last deciding an explanation was needed.

“That’s preposterous! You’re a man, and a tall one at that.”

“I assure you I am a capable teacher. However, I’ll be glad to fetch Lady Rachel and ask her to instruct you.”

“No.” He sighed and accepted defeat for the time being. His options had been narrowed to making a fool of himself that evening or accepting Sebastian’s help. He got to his feet and sniffed. “Not here, it’s too dusty.”

The library was spotless but the smell of old books still permeated the air and though he was sure it was dusted daily, the small chamber still bothered his allergies. He followed Sebastian down the hall with trepidation. He trusted this man less than he had ever trusted anyone. Still, there was something to be said for the phrase about desperate times and desperate measures. He only had a few hours until the gala and that wasn’t enough time to find a more suitable tutor.  
Ciel dug his heels in when they reached the stone patio. “Someone could see us out here.”

“Finnian is around the back of the manor and everyone else inside has too pressing of a schedule to be peering out the windows. Not to mention, the weather is fine.”

It was indeed another rare sunny day, and Ciel averted his gaze as Sebastian removed his tailcoat as though it was indecent. The pressed white dress shirt underneath covered just as much but there was something to the fluid way he slid the coat down his arms that made it seem a less mundane action. Sebastian began to show him proper form, and Ciel tried to concentrate on his lessons rather than how little he liked being manhandled.

“Relax but keep your posture straight, my lord, you want to look as though you're enjoying yourself.”

“I'll be doing no such thing.”

Sebastian clasped their hands and put them into starting position. “I suppose such a thing as a ball must seem terribly frivolous to you, with your upbringing.”

Ciel stepped back on to his heel and said, “I have come to expect it from my new family. They're lovely people but they don't understand how differently I view things.”

“Just as you can not imagine the lifestyle they have led since children, they can not imagine yours, either. They have known what it is to struggle in many ways but none of them financial. You must feel as though you've entered a parallel universe.” Sebastian returned them to starting position when Ciel once more stepped on his toe.

“Quite. They couldn't fathom why I was upset by the mint leaf served atop my steak last night for dinner, that could be used for tea, I found it terribly wasteful to use it as mere garnish.”

“I'll keep that in mind next time I prepare your dinner.”

He felt his cheeks go warm. “Oh...I didn't mean...”

“You meant precisely what you said, my lord,” Sebastian said, leading Ciel through a graceful natural turn. “I admire that in you.”

The less Ciel thought about what he was doing, the better he became at it. Before long he had managed to finish an entire dance without treading on Sebastian's feet, who he found was as skilled of a dancer as he claimed. They made idle chatter as they danced. Sebastian was an excellent listener and for a short while, with the sun filtering through the clouds and the scent of lilac on the wind, Ciel felt like he was home.


	3. The Story of Will the Scholar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read and commented! It's much appreciated. FYI Sebastian is the only non-human in the story so far, Grell and Sebastian are human in this AU. Also the rating goes up this chapter, if you are inclined to skip the sexy stuff.

“One drink won't hurt ya,” Ronald said, putting a tumbler of whiskey in his hands.

“I'm fine.”

“You graduated at the top of the class, celebrate! That's what this party is for.”

Ronald disappeared into the crowd before William could hand the drink back. He took a reluctant sip. It did pleasantly burn as it went down, and warmed him against the chill that had settled in the vast room. The university had allowed them the main hall of the school for their festivities. William lurked in the corner of the room, only there because he had been talked into it by that dratted Ronald Knox, who was a year behind him but got invited to the party by a graduate. William had been tutoring him for the past few months and in a way, he saw himself in Ronald if he had been born with a more wild streak.

“Our whole graduating class and not a good looking man to be seen.”

He looked over to find Grell Sutcliff leaning against the wall next to him. After never speaking in their time at university, they had been paired for an assignment in their last week. He found the red head vexing to no end but he had ended the assignment with reluctant respect for the flamboyant man. Grell was crazy but he was more intelligent than he let on. 

“How were we even in the same class?” William asked, lips loosened by the drink. Grell seemed the type to a seek a physically demanding job, as from what he could tell the man bored easily.

Grell hesitated before he answered, and he was looking at his feet when he said, “I've always wanted a child of my own, but if I can't have one then I suppose I can at least be around them.”

One drink turned into two, and before William knew it, they were talking about everything and nothing. Either the whiskey was strong or Grell was actually quite funny. They sought somewhere more quiet to talk after awhile and ducked out of the party. William was too disoriented to protest when Grell took his hand as they ran down one of the hallways, after complaining that William was going to get lost on his own. In truth William probably would have.

Grell pulled them into the first room with an unlocked door. They laughed as they ran between towering shelves. There was just enough light for William to make out the flame colored hair in front of him but everything else was cast into shadow. The diligent scholar who had been drowned by alcohol quite some time ago surfaced to remind him that they were in a library, and ask him just what the hell he was thinking. We're just here to talk, he thought, but he couldn't convince even his own subconscious while he was staring at the way that black suit clung to the dark form that was Grell.

“So I was saying about the orphanage on the East End, I think they-”

His attempt to continue their conversation from the party was thwarted by Grell taking him by the lapels and pulling him into a deep kiss. His brain short circuited at the taste of cherries and liquor. They stumbled into a bookshelf and William found his hands clutching the back of Grell's jacket, his lips parting to the intrusion of the red head's tongue. Even drunk Grell was one hell of a kisser.

He was too inebriated to argue when clothes started to come off. His hands seemed to act on their own as he stripped Grell, and he didn't know whose buttons were popping off and rolling across the floor. Grell was kissing his neck, sending a rush of heat to his core that had nothing to do with the whiskey. He pulled them between two bookcases and divested Grell of his trousers.

“I've never done this,” he admitted, breaking another long kiss.

“Give me.” That was the only explanation he got for Grell sucking his fingers into his mouth, making William wonder just how many nerve endings they had, for the things Grell was doing to them with his tongue felt all too good.

William thought his undergarments seemed a bit soft for a man, but he didn't think anything else as he pushed them down and pushed two fingers inside Grell.

“Jesus Christ, Will!” Grell cried, but he rocked against his fingers.

The rough treatment just spurred Grell on more. He cried out with every thrust of William's fingers inside him, getting louder and louder until William covered his mouth with his free hand. Finally William removed them and began to slick himself up. He didn't see how he was going to fit in that tight passage, but pain seemed to make Grell hotter than anything.

He lifted Grell so that his trousers slipped off his feet and he could grip William with his legs. William moaned as he sheathed himself in Grell, and felt slightly sharp nails dig into his back when he started to move. Books fell off the other side of the shelf with each thrust but he could think of nothing except the pleasure coursing through his body. Grell's thighs trembled around him and the red head's eyes were screwed shut. The sight of him was nearly his undoing.

He began to thrust with all his considerable strength. Grell was gripping the shelf at his back, almost screaming when William nailed that bundle of nerves inside him. “Oh Will, don't stop, please...”

William didn't slow down until Grell came with a final cry of Will's name. His whole body jerked when William continued to fuck into him relentlessly. William's thrusts had become slower but deeper. He buried his face in Grell's neck, grinding his teeth against shouting obscenities as he climaxed into the red head's writhing body.

They slid unceremoniously to the ground, both panting and sticky. Will's glasses had fallen off at some point. He couldn't even tell which way was up let alone right or left, he was blind as a bat without them. His hands slid along the floor until he felt them being pushed up the bridge of his nose. Grell swam into focus and in the low light he thought he saw his classmate smile.

“You should be more careful with those.”

 

Some Many Years Later

 

William Spears believed details were important. Few people shared this value. He finished combing his hair, and slid into his tailcoat. There was not a scrap of lint to be found nor a hair out place. He could not imagine being anything less than perfectly groomed for dinner at the Phantomhive residence. Vincent had phoned earlier in the day to invite him, the family wished to express their gratitude for bringing them together with Ciel. He had told Vincent he need not go to such lengths to thank him, but the lord insisted. 

William sighed. He had planned to catch up on some paperwork this evening, and he had no use for social outings. Alas, it would have been disrespectful to decline a second time.

“Are you ready yet?”

“Oh William you're ever so impatient, you can't rush perfection!”

He felt his eyebrow twitch as he locked his office. This was the pentacle of bad ideas but Vincent was a cheeky bastard and he would never hear the end of it if he came alone. So, he had brought a change of clothes to work (where he slept many nights of the week) and instructed his overenthusiastic plus one to do the same. If only he'd had anyone else to ask he would have but he knew no one outside of work and none of his colleagues cared for his company. Except one. It also happened that the only one who enjoyed his company enjoyed it far too much for William's liking.

“Are you quite fin...oh, dear God.”

William had been raising his hand to knock on the door across from his when it swung open and there stood his coworker in all his scarlet glory. He froze and found himself unable to speak. Grell had always been eccentric and loved to push the boundaries of dress code with his indecently long hair and bright red coat that always seemed to bunch up around his elbows, but William had never seen how he dressed outside work. He couldn't stop staring. Even his eyebrows, arguably his most expressive feature, had nothing to say of this.

Grell wore an elaborate red gown over petticoats, his hair was french braided and he was in as much makeup as any woman. He didn't look anything like a he. He spun around and looked at William expectantly, looking thrilled to have stricken his stoic boss speechless. “Well?”

“You have never been more revolting, Sutcliff.”

William turned on his heel and led the way out to the front of the orphanage, pushing his glasses up his nose as he went. Behind him Grell was shrieking about how cruel he was but he walked resolutely forward. He didn't want to look at that trainwreck any longer than necessary. There had always been something left to center about his classmate but he had underestimated just how perverse Grell Sutcliff had become since graduation. Ugh...graduation. His single greatest regret.

“I suppose you're my female companion for the evening,” he said as they settled into the carriage.

Grell batted his long, fake lashes. “Haven't I always been?”

“You are in possession of male reproductive organs, therefore you are a man. However, I have no intentions of letting the Phantomhives know I have come to their gala in the company of a crossdresser.”

“You're so mean,” Grell said, and spent the rest of the ride with his arms folded and painted lips in a pout.

William wondered what had happened to the fierce, proud student of their university days. He had been clearly homosexual then, too, but he had not been this simpering mess. They had graduated university five years ago but he could still vividly recall the short tempered, hard edged Grell of that time. He stole a glance at his coworker of present. People changed, he supposed.

They arrived at the estate and were escorted inside by the butler. William pretended not to notice the way Grell flirted with him, but he was hard pressed to ignore the pang of jealousy he felt. He averted his eyes as they entered the manor. Honestly, there was no sense in feeling that way. He had been the one to break his drunken promise he made to Grell the night of graduation that they would stay in touch, and by the time their paths crossed again at the orphanage, Grell was a stranger to him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I made an error on my note last chapter. I meant to say Grell and William are human in this AU, not Grell and Sebastian. Sowwy.  
> Thank you everyone who has been reading and taken their time to review or leave kudos! I'm so happy you guys are enjoying it.

The guest list was short but the festivities were lavish. Music carried to every corner of the house, laughter echoed through every chamber. Such was the standard for a gala hosted by the Phantomhives. Rachel looked down from the landing that led to the second floor with a smile. Her sister was gushing over another woman's red dress, who was in turn making over Angelina's. Lady Gilbert was speaking with Mr. Spears of the orphanage while her daughter, Lady Elizabeth chased Mey-Rin trying to put bows in her air.

Vincent came to her side. “How are you feeling?”

“Never better.”

Her words brought relief to his eyes at first, but it was fast to fade. She followed his gaze down to the main hall that they had turned into a ballroom. Ciel was dressed in the finest of midnight blue cloths, and was scowling as Sebastian fussed with the knot at the back of his head. Clearly he had tried to tie his newly tailored eyepatch on by himself. Rachel's smile widened.

“They're sweet.”

“Darling, you always want to forget what he is.” Vincent absently fingered his gloves, which never left his hands unless he was in her company alone.

“I do no such thing but Ciel has lived a hard life, he needs someone like Sebastian to look after him for as long as Sebastian is around.” She thought of what it would mean when their demon butler was no longer around, and looked away from her husband. It wouldn't do to think of that now. They were gathered to celebrate adopting Ciel, not mourn the loss she would have to face one day. She shook off her sadness and held out her hand. Vincent took it, and they descended the stairs to join the ball.

 

“You can't possibly be serious.”

“I am.”

“You can't expect me to do this in front of all these people, and with you no less.”

“I rather do.”

“You're intolerable.”

Sebastian titled his head and smiled, hand stubbornly extended. He knelt so that he was on eye level with Ciel. “If you will forgive my boldness, you are no picnic, my lord.”

“Then make someone else dance with you,” Ciel retorted, not knowing why the remark angered him. It was because it was disrespectful, surely.

“You mistake my meaning, I enjoy your crass nature. It is refreshing. Now, will you afford me a dance?”

Ciel groaned and slid his leather gloved hand into Sebastian's. The damned butler would be pestering him all night if he didn't get it over with. He tried to remember what he had learned as they began a dance but it was hard with all these people watching. His foot narrowly missed Sebastian's as they turned, and he felt as though the eyes of everyone in the room were burning into him. When he looked, however, no one except his parents seemed to be focused on them. Vincent wore an oddly hard look as he stared at Sebastian, and Rachel smiled at Ciel when their eyes met.

He was about to step on Sebastian's foot when his feet left the ground entirely. He started to panic that he had fallen but his feet settled once more, and began moving on their own. Oh, by the name of Queen and country, this was degrading. He found that his feet were on top of Sebastian's and the butler was dancing for both of them.

“This is foul,” he said, craning his neck to look up at Sebastian.

“On the contrary, I find this adorable. You are ever so tiny, my lord.”

“Call me tiny again and I'll have you removed from this household faster than you can put that self-satisfied smirk on your face.”

Sebastian laughed, a genuine, melodious sound. “Spoken like a true noble.”

Ciel rolled his eyes and observed the room. He felt he should tread lightly, as he knew there was something amiss with the butler, but wasn't it expected of him to get along as well as possible with the staff of his new home? As long as Sebastian didn't think he could cop that smart mouth just because Ciel wasn't born of nobility, there was no reason they couldn't get along. Well, there was the small drawback that Sebastian sometimes looked at him the same way a wolf observed a lamb, but he would simply stay on his guard.

“May I cut in?”

He looked up and found Mr. Spears giving Sebastian a look that said his question was not a question at all. The butler asked, “You wish to dance with my master?”

“I wish to borrow you for a discussion in private, if I may.”

Ciel watched the discussion with interest. He knew enough of deception to detect tension from the polite words. Sebastian excused himself with a bow and walked with Mr. Spears to the corridor that led to the servants' quarters. Both of their postures were more rigid than usual which was remarkable especially for William Spears, who Ciel had known since the orphanage was taken under new management two years ago.

He pretended to take interest in the assortment of snacks until the door closed then hastily made his way around the edge of the room. He slipped into the corridor and followed their voices to the kitchen. No one had seen him leave, he had made sure of that, lest they follow him and catch him eavesdropping. He looked around the entryway to the kitchen with his good eye.

William had his finger in Sebastian's face, saying in a harsh whisper, “I've seen too many of your kind to not recognize the way you look at him.”

“My kind?” Sebastian looked interested, and unless it was Ciel's imagination, his eyes were a brighter red than they had been moments ago.

“You're sick, feeling for children as you do.”

There was a long silence, then Sebastian laughed. The tension in his body seemed to release and he clapped William on the shoulder. The vile accusations seemed not to bother him. Ciel's stomach clenched when he realized they must have been talking about him. Then he saw William's fingers close around a knife on the counter and before he could shout a warning, he lashed out at Sebastian. The butler's head whipped to the side, toward Ciel. 

In plain view of Sebastian now, Ciel flattened his back to the wall beside the entryway, trying to quiet his heavy breathing. No one came out of the kitchen so maybe Sebastian had not seen him. He had every right to know what a servant in his household was doing, he would likely be in no trouble if he was caught, but he was sure their confrontation would come to a halt if they knew he was there. He heard a long silence, then a gasp. It sounded like William.

“Who...what are you?” William demanded.

When Sebastian spoke next, his voice was deeper. “I am simply a devil of a butler.”

“I'll be watching you.”

“By all means.”

Footsteps drew nearer to the hall and Ciel hastened to make it to the door. He closed it behind him as quick as he could and rejoined the party, trying to look as though he'd never left. Mr. Spears had just assaulted Sebastian after accusing him of being a pedophile. Ciel observed William, who was composed if not for the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. He made his way through the crowd to his date and said something to her in what seemed to be a nonchalant way. His date narrowed her eyes though, as if she saw right through it. Something about her was familiar...no matter. Ciel dismissed it and made for the door he had just exited. There had been a spray of blood when William lashed out with the knife.

He found Sebastian in the kitchen cleaning the knife in question. His back was to Ciel, but turned around when Ciel said, “Sit.”

“As you wish.”

Ciel dampened a clean piece of cloth and stood in front of the butler. His hand wavered for a moment before he pushed away the unruly locks of hair that hung in Sebastian's face. “Your face.”

“Is something the matter with it?”

“No, that's just the thing...there is not a single scratch.”

Sebastian looked as though he was going to ask how Ciel knew this, but he only smiled. He knew Ciel had been listening in. Ciel could tell that much from his expression of amusement and a bit of exasperation. He stared in open shock as he ran the cloth over Sebastian's cheek. There was hardly an indication that the butler's skin was not made of fine porcelain, never mind a trace of a wound. 

“Your leg is shaking,” Sebastian commented as he noticed the fine tremor in Ciel's knee.

“It does that if I put my weight on it for too long.” Ciel had in fact been putting most of his weight on it, a habit he'd thought to have long broken.

He flinched as a hand came to rest on his back. Sebastian pulled him down and Ciel avoided his eyes as he sat on Sebastian's knee. This was no easy task, as close as their faces were to each other. Bright red eyes observed him as he dabbed at Sebastian's skin as though a wound would appear if he tried hard enough. This wasn't possible. He knew his eye wasn't playing tricks on him, he had seen blood before he hid on the other side of the wall.

“There is more to you than you let on,” he said.

“The same would seem to go for you.”

Ciel gasped. Sebastian's hand had traveled further up his back, and though there were layers of clothing to hide it, his fingers traced the outline of the brand toward the back of Ciel's ribs. He jerked away but that hand pulled him back down. His feet sought purchase as he slid off Sebastian's knee into his lap. 

“It is the lord and lady's most fervent wish for me to look after you, to see to your needs...what to you have to lose by accepting me?” Sebastian asked softly.

“You tell me.”

“Not a thing, my young lord.” His hand crept up to hold the back of Ciel's neck, leaving him powerless to turn away as Sebastian's face drew closer, his breath ghosting over Ciel's lips.“I am a man of few secrets. I am merely one hell of a butler.”

Ciel swallowed. He was sitting sideways in the butler's lap and Sebastian seemed to envelop him, a barrier that separated him from rationality and reason. “Only a few, eh?”

A gloved finger curled under his chin and Sebastian's face came too close to focus on. Ciel closed his eye, heart hammering in his chest as Sebastian said, “I suppose I'm about to have one more.”


	5. The Good Die Young

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: First of all, trigger warning! This chapter contains suicide and alludes to physical and sexual abuse. This is a Grelliam chapter but we'll return to SebaCiel next time. If you don't want to read dark material, I totally understand. However this was originally intended to evolve into a darker story.   
> Big thanks to everyone for your reviews and kudos! I love you guys!

The carriage ride back to Grell's flat was even more silent than usual. William was mulling over the evening's events, reliving what he had seen. He had not been drinking at the gala or he would have thought he imagined the black feathers drifting around Sebastian in a hazy greenish blue light. Crimson eyes were burned into his memory and he had to consider, for the first time, that he had made a mistake with his placement of a child.

They stopped outside the old building and William watched despondently as Grell got out of the carriage. He turned to look at William, hand on the door. “What happened back there?”

“It's no matter.” His voice wasn't as strong as he would have liked.

Grell rolled his eyes and slammed the door. Even by William's standards for behavior, he knew he had spent the latter half of the evening neglecting his “date.” Grell had done him a favor of sorts by accompanying him but after what took place with the family butler, William had spent the night in stricken silence. He stared down at his hands. He was a man of logic and what he had seen could not be explained by it.

He was about to rap against the roof of the carriage when the door came open again. Grell stood there with a defeated, almost pitying look. “Do you want to come up?”

He could hardly believe it when he sent the carriage on its way and followed Grell upstairs. It was a short walk back to the orphanage if nothing else. Grell's skirts flowed behind him as he ascended to his flat, but William's legs were moving on autopilot. He sat heavily on the sofa when he got inside. In their years of knowing each other, he had never been to Grell's residence. It was a cramped space that showed the struggle of being born a commoner, but there were splashes of color that made it distinctly Grell's own.

A mug of cocoa was placed in his hands and then Grell vanished to the washroom. When he returned, half the cocoa was gone. He settled onto the opposite end of the sofa from William, the makeup washed from his face, his clothes plain and hair down. William averted his gaze back to his mug. Even in his state of distress, he couldn't help but notice how lovely Grell was when all that nonsense wasn't caked onto him.

“Why are you extending this kindness to me?”

Grell yawned and looked over at him. “Why not? I was a butler before I came to work at the orphanage, I know the value of small gestures.”

“I'm horrible to you.”

“It's never seemed to bother you before.” Grell examined his nails and added, “But then, you've never needed me before, have you?”

I don't need you now, you offered, came to William's lips, but he swallowed the words in favor of silence. He knew Grell meant no harm with the words and for once he was grateful for the man's company. Grell's fierce nature and tenacity lifted his spirits, reminded him to buck up. Usually it was an irritation but tonight was no ordinary night. He sat his empty mug down on the bare wooden floor. Grell was staring behind them out the window, feet tucked under him on the sofa.

“Why were you a butler? We graduated at the top of our class.”

“I just couldn't find work. I went back to school for a spell then kind of drifted until I came to the orphanage, and imagine my surprise when you greet me. I thought for sure I wouldn't get the job.”

“We had a history but I knew you were skilled, and more importantly, you cared. In our line of work, you need to have some degree of passion for your work, it allows you to perform more effectively.”

Grell tore his gaze from the window to peer at him over the top of his red spectacles. “Why did you go into this line of work? You don't care about anyone.” The words were not pointed, simply a fact.

William met his imploring stare. He didn't talk about his past with anyone, let alone someone he had such great disdain for, but their chatter was taking his mind off the night's events and it helped him avoid explaining why he had been shaken. He didn't think he could bear for Grell, the biggest loon he'd ever met, to think he was crazy. 

“My parents gave me up at birth. I grew up in the system.”

Grell dropped his eyes, looking ashamed. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be insensitive.”

“It's fine. That part of my life no longer bothers me. I do not express my emotions well, so all of my foster families returned me to the work house. I had a rough go of it so when I began to work and go to school, I decided to make a change.”

“Ambitious.”

William's eyes began to feel heavy. He leaned his head back. Stress could be exhausting, it would seem. Grell was talking about something but rather than hearing his words, William noticed that his harsh voice was quite nice when he wasn't shrieking and carrying on. It was melodious and started to sound less like words than a lullaby in tandem with the rain that had started to fall. He didn't know when his eyes had fallen shut, but he fell asleep fully dressed and in a peculiar state of peace, surrounded by the aroma of cherries and roses.

 

“Will,” said a soft voice accompanied by an even softer touch.

He opened his eyes to find a hand on his cheek, and bespectacled emerald eyes swam into view. Grell was sleepy and disheveled looking. His glasses were askew on his nose, and his layered hair stood up in even more directions than usual. Will looked around in momentary confusion. The first thing that came to mind was red eyes and slitted pupils, but then he recalled the rest of the night, and realized he was in Grell's flat.

His suit jacket and bowtie were folded neatly on top of his shoes in the neighboring armchair. At least he didn't remove anything else in my sleep, he thought, rising to his feet. 

“I'm going to work,” he said as he put his shoes on.

Grell yawned. “That's nice.”

“Don't you have...no, nevermind, you don't work today.” William scratched the back of his neck and looked around the room as if someone would magically appear to make him less uncomfortable. Alas, he did not believe in magic. He conceded to mumbling his thanks and taking his leave. He thought he heard Grell snoring when he closed the door. 

As he walked the three blocks to the orphanage, he noticed an ache in his neck from the way he'd slept, but somehow he felt more well rested than he had in a long time. He tried not to ponder the reason for that. Grell was the primary source for his migraines, he would be hard pressed to believe that man's company had aided him in any way.

“Mr. Spears!”

He had just reached the front of the building when the elderly nurse came barreling down the stairs with tears running down her face. He noticed with alarm that there was blood on her hands.

“Larieta?” he said, hoping to calm her with her first name instead of just calling her nurse as he usually did.

She wiped at her tears, then began heaving with sobs as the attempt smeared blood onto her face. “I-I must fetch Doctor Sutcliff. It's Alois...he's not breathing, Mr. Spears!”

He ran past her into the building. The world blurred until he was in the infirmary. The other nurse stood over a small boy with blond hair, whose wrist was dripping blood onto the floor. William tore his jacket off and began cutting it up with shears. They had already used the infirmary's supply of bandages, which lay in a bloody heap on the floor. He wrapped Alois' wrist and applied as much pressure as he had the strength for. His knowledge of first aid was basic but he knew when there was this much blood than Alois could not travel.

Alois was one of his hardest cases. They had taken him from his father's home not long ago, where he had endured every form of abuse in the book, down to the most revolting one could imagine. William ground his teeth together against a cry of anger. In two years he had never lost a child, he wasn't going to start with this one.

Other children lurked outside the infirmary trying to see what was happening. An older boy who everyone called Joker was trembling, and judging from the blood on him, he had been the one to find Alois. The seventeen year-old nicknamed Beast had come up to his elbow and clapped her hand over her mouth when she saw the state of the infirmary. Alois was blocked from view but the blood was not.

“Move, Will,” said a firm, beautifully familiar voice.

He stepped to the side as Grell rushed past him, rolling up his sleeves. He was wearing trousers and a nightshirt with his hair twisted up and pinned haphazardly to the back of his head. His appearance was a mess but he possessed a focus that William only saw when he was working. He had no idea how Grell had learned so much after graduation but he was the facility's physician and a damn good one.

“Can I do-”

Grell didn't look up from examining the wounds. “Out.”

The infirmary was the only place in which William would accept an order from Grell, and he obliged silently. He joined his children outside feeling cold down to his very soul. Grell's fingers were pressed to the side of Alois' neck. They stayed there for what seemed like a long time. Then they slipped away and Grell ceased his efforts to close the wounds, to do anything at all. He swayed on the spot and then hit his knees in the pool of blood. His back was to the door, but William could see his shoulders shaking, and knew the worst had happened.

There were cries of disbelief from the children around him, and even as he ordered them back to their rooms, he heard his own sounds of anguish join them. When the hall was clear he returned to the infirmary. Grell had covered the small body with a sheet and tears fell steadily but silently down his cheeks. They both stared down at the child. 

“I failed him,” William choked out, holding back tears of his own.

“Will...” Grell couldn't seem to find words of comfort, for there were no words that could ease the pain of this loss. He just turned to the tall brunette with his hands extended, as though in them would appear an explanation for why God had claimed the life of the tormented child in their care. No such thing appeared, and Grell began to shake with sobs again. “Will...”

William grasped his hands and pulled him into his arms. Grell collapsed against him and wrapped his arms around Will's waist, cursing the world for all it was worth for this injustice. The smell of cherries had been replaced on him by the unforgiving scent of antiseptic and blood. William stroked his hair and finally let his own tears fall.


	6. Chapter 6

Sebastian closed his eyes and his lashes brushed Ciel's cheek, who was trembling but leaning closer all the same. The butler's hand cupped the back of his neck and drew him in. Ciel parted his lips, the pounding of his heart reaching a crescendo, and-”

“Ciel, darling?”

He stumbled to his feet, almost falling into floor as his bad leg wobbled in protest. He ran straight into Rachel as she entered the room. She laughed and put her hands on his shoulders to steady him. “There's no need to be shy, dear, please come rejoin the festivities.”

“Of course, my apologies.”

“Not at all.” Her smile stayed in place as she put her arm around his shoulders and guided him out of the room.

He made it a point not to look back but he felt eyes on him nonetheless. His whole body seemed to be on fire. He was alight with embarrassment, shock at his own actions, and worst of all, a twinge of disappointment. He brushed himself off as though there might be physical evidence of what had almost transgressed. Breathing required more effort than usual but he tried his best to keep it even, both to avoid Rachel growing suspicious and because his asthma still flared up at the worst possible times.

Vincent extended his hand to Rachel when they returned to ballroom and together, the three of them ascended the stairs. Ciel made to go to the second floor but his parents stopped on the landing that overlooked the main hell. Vincent tapped the side of his glass, and as the guests fell silent and turned their attention to the family, Ciel prayed to a God he didn't have much faith in to open a hole to swallow him. Vincent began to make a speech about the blessing of Ciel entering their life. Rachel was saying how she knew at first sight they had found their son but as they room erupted into applause all Ciel could hear was cruel laughter, and the faces of the guests morphed into masked men with cold eyes.

The effort to breathe became more than he was capable of. He started to gasp for air as though someone had siphoned every bit of it from his lungs. A white hand closed on his shoulder, but oddly it did not become the violent hands of his memory, it simply remained the gloved hand of his butler. Sebastian knelt and leaned close to Ciel's ear.

“You must breathe, my lord. I know their stares make you uneasy but you will be subjected to far more of their attention if they see you struggling to breathe.”

Ciel knew he was right, but his heart was racing and his mouth had gone dry. He shook his head to say he couldn't do it but Sebastian's hand squeezed his shoulder.

“Breathe with me. Inhale as I inhale, and only exhale when I do. That's good. Now, all that clapping is for you. Inhale as you bow and exhale as you stand. Very good, young master. You see? It's over now.”

Ciel had closed his eye to focus on the sound of Sebastian's voice and when he opened it, the crowd at the bottom of the stairs had started to disperse. He glanced sideways but his parents didn't seem to have overheard the exchange. He turned his attention back to Sebastian, who was talking into his ear again, sending the best and worst of chills down his back.

“Go on to your chambers. I'll tell the lord and lady that the festivities tired you, and you wished to go to bed early.”

“Thank you.”

He was still weary of Sebastian but for the time being he was glad for his help and his strong, steady presence. While Vincent was speaking to his mother, Ciel took to the stairs as quickly as his aching leg would allow. He heard Sebastian speaking to his parents until he reached the hall and their voices died away. The corridor was wonderfully quiet. The servants were attending the party and the guests were being confined to the main hall so it was a peaceful walk to his bedchambers.

He removed his stuffy dress clothes. The crackling fire combated the chill, allowing him to sit on the bed for a moment, unclothed without getting cold. He reached back to the raised skin on his back. Perhaps Sebastian had touched it by coincidence, but he had reached for it with such purpose that such an explanation was unlikely. The mark of the noble beast...as if there was anything noble about overpowering a child. He shivered. The coldness had nothing to do with the temperature of the room but he still needed to dress for bed.

He sat back against the headboard in his most comfortable gown, blankets pulled to his waist. He dozed on and off until there was a knock on the door and Sebastian came in. His stomach did somersaults as the tea cup was placed in his hands. Sebastian said his goodnights and made to leave, but Ciel found himself saying, “Would you care to join me for a bit?”

“It would be my greatest pleasure.”

Sebastian sat on the end of Ciel's bed and said, “You did well out there. You kept your composure and stayed strong, I could easily mistake you for a born Phantomhive.”

“Perhaps that would be true, except I was born to a prostitute and the identity of my father is unknown.” At the butler's raised brows, he said, “I stole my file from Mr. Spears' office once. I was curious.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Of course.”

They drew closer the longer they talked and soon Ciel was sitting with his feet in Sebastian's lap, who was giving them a heavenly massage while they made conversation about their lives. Sebastian had been a servant for the duration of his and had joined the Phantomhive household ten months earlier. He pressed his thumb into Ciel's arch while listening to stories of the orphanage, and seemed to find many of them entertaining.

Ciel's discomfort at their encounter in the kitchen began to wear away as they talked long into the night. Before long Sebastian's shoes were on the floor and they were laying with their heads on opposite ends of the bed, Sebastian's feet propped on Ciel's pillow and Ciel discovered that the length of his body was not much more than that of Sebastian's legs. He found himself fingering the cuff of the butler's trousers as he spoke, not really noticing that he was doing so. The candle burned down at some point and they spoke into the darkness.

They had been alone for hours and Sebastian made no further advances on him. He was glad he could enjoy the butler's companionship without the usual tension it presented, though he was curious as to why Sebastian had not taken advantage of their closeness in some way.

“Sebastian?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

He was glad the butler couldn't see his face redden in the darkness. “Helping me earlier. I am not accustomed to being presented in front of large groups of people, I suppose I have a touch of social anxiety.”

“If you would forgive my saying so, I don't believe that to be the reason for your anxiety.”

Ciel's heart skipped. Once more, he doubted Sebastian had found the brand on his ribs by accident. “What do you believe, then?”

“That you have suffered. It had taken the bright, ordinary soul of a child and contorted it into a complex, writhing mass of black hatred. I see it burn within you as surely as I can watch the embers burn down in the fireplace. Stoke those flames and I can only imagine the inferno you would become, my lord.”

“I seem quite damaged to you, then.” 

“Don't sound disheartened, I find myself infatuated with that beautifully twisted soul you have. I have never seen another like it.”

“You speak about it as though it's an object.”

Sebastian laughed but there was little humor to it. “I told you I was a man of few secrets, not of none.”

Ciel had a lot to think about as he fell asleep. Sebastian seemed to act as a buffer against the vivid nightmares that plagued him, reducing them to hazy images that drifted through his mind but never stayed long enough to wake him. His memories were spliced by flashes of red eyes, a bloody knife and a vanishing wound, and an interrupted kiss. There was something growing clearer the longer his subconscious mind lingered over for Sebastian but before he could make sense of it, he was claimed by a dreamless sleep at last.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mostly finished chapter was on my work computer and I've been in school for the past four days so I just got back to finish this. Warning: mentions of abuse, suicide, and there is some underage action here.

“Rise and greet the day, young master.”

“Grrpmh.”

Ciel buried his face under his pillow to hide from the sunlight filling the room as Sebastian opened the curtains. He felt the butler give his ankle a playful tug and grabbed the headboard. Sebastian pulled again, this time with enough force for Ciel to have to stretch his arms all the way up to hold on to the headboard. He finally dislodged Ciel from the bed and, tangled in the sheets, Ciel fell off the end of the bed onto the floor. Well...sort of the floor. He rubbed the sleep out of his eye and looked down.

“Top of the morning, my lord.”

“Aaahhh!” 

Ciel scrambled back as he realized the solid thing he had landed on was Sebastian, who laughed as he sat up with his arms around Ciel and their legs tangled together. His hair was a bit mussed from Ciel knocking him over as he fell, and his eyes were the dark wine color they were when he was relaxed. Ciel blushed and looked away. He was sitting on Sebastian's thighs, and the butler was sitting up so he felt the front of his nightgown brush Sebastian's suit jacket. He expected that predatory look to come back but Sebastian's eyes were light and amused as he brushed Ciel's hair out of his eyes.

“No, stop!” Ciel said, bringing his arms up to hide his face. At Sebastian's touch he had realized his eyepatch was still on the bedstand where he had left it last night after the room was dark.

Hands much stronger than his own pulled his arms down, and Ciel was left powerless as Sebastian exposed him. He closed his eye. His face burned with shame, for it was marred with the most permanent mark of his weakness, that he had been reduced to a victim. Worse still it was on display to a man who was the epitome of beauty and possessed not a single physical flaw that Ciel had observed yet.

“Why would you hide?” Sebastian murmured, raising his hand to the scarred side of Ciel's face.

It had to be a rhetorical question, for no sane man could see under Ciel's eyepatch and not know. Where his eye had been was now just tissue mottled with the different scars left by lacerations and burns. It was a gruesome mix of pink and brown skin that would make the best of men sick. He remembered all too well trying to fight against his captors and the largest of them swinging the branding iron to put him back down. By a cruel twist of fate it caught him directly in the eye. The pain was worse than he could describe, and he found no relief until he escaped. He had taken to the streets and eventually had to remove what was left of it himself.

He explained this to a quiet, attentive Sebastian, who asked, “How did you end up taken by these men? I thought you were raised in the orphanage from a newborn.”

“Indeed. The orphanage was deeply corrupt. There was no one to miss us, so sometimes we would be sold off to the highest bidder. When I escaped and the authorities discovered me living on the streets and heard my story, then they found evidence and arrested everyone who worked at the orphanage. It turned out that every member of staff knew what was going on when one of the children went missing. Then it was taken over by Mr. Spears, and everything changed.”

Sebastian looked as though he wanted to ask many more questions, but he removed the sheets from around Ciel and helped him to his feet. He combed Ciel's hair and tied his eyepatch back on. “Breakfast will nearly be ready. Dress, and meet me downstairs.”

“Very well.”

Ciel watched him go. He had never told anyone what happened when he was kidnapped from playing on the front lawn of the orphanage. Or at least he had thought he was kidnapped until he discovered it was staged that way to keep suspicion off the orphanage staff. The only people who knew were the authorities, Mr. Spears, and Dr. Sutcliff, who had patched him up when he saw the mess of a surgery he had performed on himself. It often wept blood onto the eyepatch he had fashioned from old rags. Mr. Spears got him a real one and after a slow, painful healing, his face was as whole as it ever would be.

“Doctor Sutcliff...” he said, raising his fingers to his leather patch. That was who had seemed familiar at the gala. Oh god, the doctor had been wearing a dress and makeup. He always thought the doctor was a lover of men and seemed to carry a torch for Mr. Spears but he never thought he would don a dress. “Fruit,” Ciel muttered.

 

It was the first time since he was hired that Grell spent the whole day in his office with paperwork. Most of his work was hands on, leading William to believe he was just shuffling papers to avoid coming out. Every so often William would find a reason to walk by just to peer in and see if there had been a change. Grell's face was still blank, eyes hollow. It had been stuck in that expression since they watched Alois get taken away. William knew they were feeling the same way about it – that they had failed in their greatest mission, to protect the children.

The sun had gone down when William went to lock the door. He would be spending the night, unable to bear the thought of another tragedy occurring in his absence. Soon only two candles burned on the lower floor of the building. Grell's, and his own. He rapped on the door to the red head's office. When there was no answer, he pushed it open. Grell was slumped over on his desk. Feeling the blood pounding in his ears, William went to his side and shook him violently.

“What?” Grell moaned, looking up from under a fringe of hair. Under his head was a familiar bundle of purple cloth. It was Alois' favorite coat.

William sighed. The doctor hand sewed an item of clothing for every orphan's birthday. He said everyone should have a present on their birthday whether they have a family or not. We'll be their family until they find a better one, Grell had told him. He ran his fingers over the soft material. It had almost never left Alois' shoulders, sometimes he'd even slept in it. His fingers stopped on a damp spot where Grell's face had been and his heart twisted.

“I am sorry,” he said, the foreign words tasting odd in his mouth.

Grell turned his bloodshot eyes up Will's. “For what?” 

“I failed Alois, and subsequently failed you. I'm sorry. I do not enjoy seeing your pain.”

“I don't care about my pain!” Grell was suddenly on his face, tears trickling down his cheeks but a fire burning in his eyes. “What about his pain, Will? How many nights did he sit in his room thinking about how nobody wanted him before he killed himself? How are we supposed to sleep at night, wondering who else might be sitting up there wondering if life is worth it?” he yelled.

“I...” 

“Exactly! No one has an answer to this, no one has an explanation because there isn't one! His death was senseless and cruel, life is cruel,” Grell raged, and began to knock things off his desk, sending pens rolling in all directions and a glass shattering on the floor.

“Stop, this won't bring him back and upsetting the other children won't due at all.”

Grell sent a sheaf of papers into the air. “How can you be so cold? He's dead, Will, one of our children is dead!”

“You think I'm unaware of that?” Will snapped, raising his voice for the first time. He snatched Grell by the shoulders when he went to throw something else and held the red head's arms down to his sides. His eyes must have been furious, as Grell seemed to shrink under his stare. He pushed Grell against the side of the desk and brought their faces close. A wall of ice formed between them, casting Will into a wonderfully familiar, cold isolation with his feelings where no one could reach him. He left his sympathy on the other side of it as he met Grell's watery eyes.

“Pull yourself together, Sutcliff. We should be setting an example for these children, we need to remain strong.”

“But-”

Will's temper reached its limits. “Wipe your eyes and hold your damn head up. The children know little enough what to think of their flighty, gender confused physician, I don't need them sobbing all over the place like you, too.”

He released Grell and left the office. He didn't look back when he slammed the door behind him, but he was sure there had been a deep fury in Grell's eyes before he turned away, maybe even hatred.

 

The evening found Ciel further out in the gardens than he had explored yet. He sat on an aging wooden bench, feeling quite hollow. The news had come a couple hours ago. Vincent and Rachel had observed his reaction as though he was a bomb and one wrong word of comfort could make him explode. He had taken the news quite calmly, though, and then excused himself to be alone. He had searched for a place that would bring him some peace and at last he found it surrounded by bushes of blue roses.

Alois had always been unstable. It wasn't that surprising he would take his life. That in mind, Ciel couldn't identify the feeling in his chest that was much like sadness. Pity, perhaps. He was lost in his thoughts until there was weight on his shoulders and he looked up. 

“I will be glad to leave you, my lord, but it's too cold to be sitting out here in such thin clothing.”

Ciel didn't realize he had been shivering until he pulled Sebastian's tailcoat around himself. It was warm from having been worn all day, and he could have melted into it if such a thing was possible. “Thank you. Er….Sebastian?”

The butler had bowed and made to leave, but he looked over his shoulder when Ciel called out. “Master?”

“Would you...”

He trailed off and averted his eyes to the cobblestone path that spliced the garden. The words dancing on his tongue were too childish, too needy. He did not have to say them, as Sebastian was sitting next to him a moment later, and more surprising still, the butler's arms came up to encircle him. He stiffened at the unwelcome contact. Then Sebastian's scent washed over him, platinum hair and blue eyes flashed in his mind's eye, and he collapsed into the embrace.

“He spent most of our time there trying to befriend me,” he said, turning his head so the words weren't lost in Sebastian's chest.

“Mr. Spears mentioned that when he called on the lord and lady. You did not care for his efforts?”

“I didn't care for anyone's efforts. I didn't want friends.”

Sebastian didn't buy his flat, bored tone. “You wonder if he would be alive, if you had not rejected him.”

Ciel didn't reply. There was no need, as he knew Sebastian wouldn't believe his lies. He closed his eye and let Sebastian stroke his hair. The sun was setting and he was glad for the warmth of the butler's body around him. He thought of Alois' annoying voice and that stupid coat he wore everywhere. He didn't know how he had killed himself, but he imagined him hanging from a noose made of purple fabric, or lying in a pool of blood. Ciel thought back to his captivity, the moments when he wished for death, and felt a twinge of guilt as he recalled Alois following him down the hall babbling about whatever interested him that day. He leaned back from Sebastian and took a deep breath.

Sebastian put his finger under Ciel's chin and tilted it up. In the fading light, his red eyes seemed to glow from within. “No one should have to go through this life alone. You may not have kept Alois from feeling alone, but you can certainly do that favor for yourself.”

“Why do I deserve it any more than he did?”

“Because by design you are selfish, my lord, it is ingrained in your human nature to look out for your own best interests.”

Ciel didn't know why, but as he replied his eye was looking between Sebastian's and the curve of his pale lips. “You speak as though you don't possess human nature, yet somehow know what my best interests are.”

“I have a keen sense of intuition. Your desires are as clear me as they would be if you spoke them aloud.”

Sebastian's finger curled under his chin, almost in a coaxing motion. There was an uncomfortable twisting in his stomach that he had come to associate with the butler. He considered Sebastian's words and asked, “What do I desire, then?”

There was too little light left for Ciel to deny it; Sebastian's eyes were glowing red, and his pupils were slitted like a cat's. For a moment he was afraid but a darker part of him was intrigued, excited even. He closed his eye to collect himself and when he opened it Sebastian's face was only a breath away. He didn't know why he didn't pull back but his instincts seemed to be in full control of his body as he once more let his eye fall shut.

He hadn't been kissed before but somehow there was no fumbling or awkwardness. He parted his lips against Sebastian's and felt a burning in his core like he had never known. Sebastian's hand slid from under his chin to his back and raised him off the bench. Ciel had barely noticed he was being moved until his feet were hanging off the back of the bench and he found himself in Sebastian's lap, legs on either side of his waist. He let the tailcoat slide off his back. Suddenly, he was warmer than he could bear. 

He shifted to get comfortable and a peculiar but pleasant jolt went through his body as it moved against Sebastian's. He moved again and felt it once more. Sebastian's hands pressed harder against his back in response, pulling him impossibly close. He locked his arms around Sebastian's neck and let the taller man explore his mouth with his tongue. Sebastian tasted of fine red wine and smoke. It was not the foul, stale taste of cigarette smoke but cleaner, almost as though an open flame burned inside him and the smoke lingered in his mouth. It was intoxicating.

He didn't realize he had kept moving until Sebastian moaned into the kiss. It must have felt good to him, too. He tried going up and down a bit to see how it felt. Sebastian's hands tightened in fists around handfuls of his shirt, and a tremble had started in Ciel's legs that was wholly unrelated to his old injury. His head fell back while Sebastian kissed his neck. He moved faster and found that it intensified both the clenched feeling just under his navel and the shaking in his legs.

“Sebastian,” he gasped.

Sebastian reached between them to unbutton Ciel's pants. “These are hand tailored for you, my lord, you shouldn't go soiling them.”

“Wh...huh?” Ciel only half heard what Sebastian was saying; in the butler's efforts to unfasten his pants, he was touching him in a way that both made his face blaze with embarrassment and his body cry out for more. 

Those hands stilled abruptly. Sebastian went still, then in a blur of movement that didn't seem possible he was on his feet and sitting Ciel down on the bench by himself. “Someone's coming,” he said, and they hurried to right themselves.

They heard the gardener, Finnius or something, calling Sebastian and went their separate ways. Sebastian went to meet him, and Ciel took the back entrance to the manor to slip up to his room. His unsteady legs barely held him long enough for him to fall onto the bed. He laid down, shoes and all, eyes fixed on the ceiling but not seeing it. He could think of nothing but gloved hands clutching his waist and a dexterous tongue navigating his mouth. He pressed the heel of his hand between his legs as though it could force his arousal back down. The pressure only made him long for Sebastian. He was slightly ashamed that Alois had been forced out of his mind but try as he might to think of the boy, all he could do was wonder what he had just gotten himself into.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to give you guys a good, long chapter, I hope it's satisfactory. I try my best to keep OOC-ness to a minimum but some liberties are taken so please still love me :D The song at the end is "The Devil's Backbone" by The Civil Wars and I strongly recommend listening to it, it's SebastianxCiel AF

Vincent kept his butler busy in the coming days, something Ciel was grateful for. In Sebastian's absence he could think clearly. He could realize the influence the butler had over him, and also the scandal of the son of a nobleman fraternizing with a servant. It didn't stop the chills he got when Sebastian met his eyes but it deterred him from trying to be alone with him. He put Sebastian to the back of his mind the best he was able and focused his attention elsewhere, which turned out to be his family.

Ciel spent most of his days being tutored in academics and the practical skills of a gentleman but he was not so busy that he didn't notice his father's strange behavior. He would go behind closed doors with unsavory looking men and disappear late at night. Sebastian was always at his side, sometimes escorting one of his father's guests outside who looked as though they had been traumatized. With each day that passed it became harder not to think of Sebastian or Alois, leaving Ciel with no choice but keep his mind on something else. His family was proving to be a worthy mystery.

The eve of Alois' funeral found him outside the room where his father often congregated with his guests. Ciel heard the clack of balls being racked for billiards, and his father talking to a heavily accented man. Their voices were joined by an unsettling, high pitched laugh. These were all voices he had heard before. He often lurked in the hallway after he was supposed to be in bed and ducked into the next room over when someone came out of the den. There had been a growing knot in his stomach, one that told him there were things that went on inside his new home that he didn't know about, and he had learned long ago that such ignorance could leave him vulnerable.

“He's not ready,” he heard his father snap.

The German with the thick accent said, “How much longer do you intend to wait?”

There was a now familiar chuckle. “Oh, your voice does give me the best laughter. Anywho you should listen to him, Vincent, her Majesty is getting impatient. An awful lot of my customers have that nasty mark on them.”

Ciel jumped when someone slammed their hands down, presumably Vincent. “I will not act in haste and allow him to be your next customer. Don't press me. Or have you forgotten what comes of those who cross me?”

“Quit making me laugh, Vincent, I'm going to bust a rib I say! I served your father and his father, I think I'll survive you as well, old friend.”

The conversation shifted and Ciel made his leave when he heard people saying their goodbyes. He mulled over what he'd heard on the way back up to his room. Who was Vincent trying to protect? Who in that room could possibly be old enough to have not only served Vincent's father but his grandfather, too? Ciel blew his candle out before anyone could notice he was awake. He had only been able to gather bits and pieces of information from his few nights of eavesdropping but he always left the hallway more confused than when he arrived.

His mind raced long into the night, and it had not slowed down when Sebastian came to wake him. He was already dressed when the butler came in.

“Good morning, my lord, I see you have spared me the trial of awaking you.”

“I'm not that hard to wake.” He knew this was a lie.

“Your clothing is to your liking, then?”

“It's fine.”

Ciel wore all black with a single purple rose tied into the ribbon around his top hat. It had been Alois' favorite color. He was surprised to remember that, as he had never viewed the boy as much more than a pest, but the more he thought back the more of an impression he realized had been left on him by the obnoxious blond. 

“You're the curious sort,” Sebastian said, kneeling in front of him.

“Pardon?”

“My hearing and sense of smell is quite better than yours. If you think I haven't noticed you listening in on your father's business, you are mistaken.”

Ciel's heart, which had already been low on this mournful day, plummeted to his feet. “Does father know? I don't want him to send me back, I-”

“Shh.” Sebastian put a white finger to Ciel's lips. “I am the only one who knows and I shall keep it that way unless I am made to answer a question that would betray you. The lord's orders are law to me, I'm afraid.”

“What goes on in that room, Sebastian? I have a right to know.”

“You are but a child to them, knowledge of your father's work would be no more than a burden as far as he's concerned.”

Ciel narrowed his eye. “What about as far as you're concerned? Don't patronize me, either, you know I am no ordinary child. I will find the truth.”

“I don't see you as much of a child, as you might have already discovered. However, I'll warn you that you may not like what you find if you keep searching.”

“Speak plain!” Ciel snapped, siezing Sebastian by the lapels of his tailcoat.

“I can not, my young lord. I am under strict orders not to divulge any information the lord and lady wish to keep hidden from you. Even if I desired to, I couldn't disobey them. That being said I can't keep you from finding the answer for yourself.”

Sebastian placed his hands over Ciel's. He didn't try to remove them from his coat, just held them there with a gentle but meaningful grasp. Ciel looked down at their hands then back to the butler. He understood quite well what Sebastian was saying. He couldn't tell him what he wanted to know, but he wouldn't stand in his way from finding out unless he was made to. Ciel ran his thumb along the back of Sebastian's hand.

“Do you like boys?”

Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“There's something else that I've been wondering...I can't figure out why you display such an interest in me. Do you enjoy children?”

There was a dangerous edge to the butler's eyes for a moment that made Ciel worry he had crossed the line, that he was about to have bestowed on him whatever terror had sent Mr. Spears and associates of his father running for the door, but a moment later Sebastian began to laugh. He stood up and released Ciel's hands. “No, my young master, I'm afraid I was not raised Catholic. I'm sorry to say that is another question I can't answer.”

He started for the door and Ciel followed. “Father's orders? He knows of your interest in me?”

“Thankfully not. I can't answer your curiosity because I do not quite know, myself. You have quite the singular effect on me.”

The words gave Ciel a strange lightheaded feeling for a moment, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared when they reached the main hall. His parents were dressed for the funeral and his hand went involuntarily to the rose on his hat. He wondered what Alois would have made of all this. The boy had been a shameless flirt, he probably would have swooned over Sebastian or at least cheered Ciel on for having his attention. A grim smile came to Ciel's face. If he had not closed himself off from others, loneliness could have taken his life has surely as it had Alois'.

“Do you not want any breakfast, darling?” Rachel asked.

“I'm not hungry.”

They made the journey in silence. Rachel sat next to Ciel, and he was surprised that he didn't mind when she put an arm around him and pulled his head against her shoulder. He took a deep breath. Her scent had become something new to him. It was comforting and calming, always giving him the same feeling as a warm blanket being draped around him on an icy night. He felt both happy and guilty that he had a mother now, thinking of Alois.

The service made him pity Alois even more. A couple pews could have held everyone in attendance. The only people there besides the Phantomhives all came from the orphanage. Mr. Spears and Dr. Sutcliff were there with other members of staff and some of the older children. A tall man with long grey hair lurked toward the back, eyes obscured by his bangs and hat. Ciel looked at him on his way inside, sure that he was familiar but unable to place him. There was something about the way the charms on his waist knocked together, about his presence, that Ciel knew.

Sebastian did not join them when they were seated. He disappeared to the back of the church with no explanation. Ciel almost wished he would have stayed, but he knew he could not dare show that he took comfort in the butler's presence in front of his parents.

He only half listened to the generic service until Dr. Sutcliff stood up and approached the pulpit. He saw Mr. Spears try to pull him back and the doctor jerk away from him. Dr. Sutcliff was awkward in his dark red suit but graceful in his movements. His hair was combed into same braid he wore while he worked but there were odd black smudges under his eyes. Fruit, Ciel thought once more. It lacked his usual disdain, though. The doctor looked devastated. 

He walked toward the back of the pulpit and when the priest concluded the service Ciel saw behind him. On either side of Dr. Sutcliff were familiar children of many ages. Some began to play instruments, and what they didn't have in refined skill was made up for by emotion. Ciel's throat threatened to close up. It was unfair, for Alois to have died in vain. He had taken his life out of loneliness yet there was his family, all together, all mourning him.

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,” sung the elderly nurse of the orphanage, rising from the pew.

“That saved a wretch like me,” Dr. Sutcliff joined in, reaching out to take her wrinkled hand as she climbed onto the pulpit.

Mally or Beast as most of the children knew her and a small blond, Dagger if Ciel remembered his nickname, stepped up and the four sang together, “I was once lost but now I'm found...”

Sebastian stepped forward, drawing his bow expertly across the strings of a violin, its melody joining the ever growing choir of voices. Each voice was wrought with sadness yet carried an unquestionable note of joy as though they were channeling Alois' stubborn cheerfulness. Ciel fought the stinging in his eye. It was as though the room had been filled with their grief and it was all pouring into him. Tears had begun to stream freely down the doctor's cheeks as he led the children in song, hand still clasped with that of the nurse. Ciel was ashamed to not know her name, she had always simply been “Nurse” and she liked it that way.

There was sniffling beside him and he looked over at Rachel, who was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. He averted his eyes back to the choir lest she see him fighting emotion. Her words and touch of comfort would surely unravel his composure. Ciel didn't realize it was over until people moved around him. He joined the cue of people waiting for the pallbearers to pass. Dr. Sutcliff and Mr. Spears were in the front with the silver haired man and a redheaded boy everyone called Joker in the back. The size of the casket struck Ciel harder than anything had yet. Alois had been no bigger than him, making for a tragically small resting place.

No one spoke as he was lowered down. His casket was covered in roses, one from each person there. The only sound was a bird singing him one final song and Dr. Sutcliff sobbing into the grey haired man's chest. Mr. Spears was pointedly looking away. Ciel asked for a moment when everyone started leaving, and though they looked worried, his parents went on ahead of him. Soon it was just him and Alois. He watched them fill his grave back up. 

“I know you're here.”

He heard leaves crunching and Sebastian came to his side. Ciel took the rose from his top hat and placed it on Alois' headstone before walking away, silently wishing his fellow orphan a safe journey to the next life if such a thing existed. He walked with Sebastian in silence for awhile. They seemed to be taking the long way back to the carriage, something he was grateful for. He wasn't ready for the penetrating stares of his parents. They seemed to think he would break down any minute. They had yet to learn this was not in his nature.

Sebastian stopped by the iron gates that led out of the cemetery. Willow trees obscured the carriage from view, giving them relative privacy. He knelt and Ciel fought the urge to step back. He wouldn't be able to stand Sebastian being like the rest of them, telling him it was okay to cry, doting over him as though he was a fragile baby bird. The butler did none of this. He framed Ciel's face with his hands and leaned across his bent knee to kiss him.

It was not like the garden earlier in the week. This was gentle and chaste. Sebastian's long hair tickled his face, and his chest was pleasantly warm when Ciel rested his hands there. They pulled away and looked at each other for a long moment. For once, Sebastian looked as confused as Ciel about the feelings the kiss had called forth. Ciel leaned his forehead against Sebastian's. A steady wind had picked up, and as a purple rose blew past them, Ciel smiled. 

“And hello to you, too, Alois,” he murmured.

Sebastian stood up with Ciel in his arms. “Let us go.”

It was the first time since his torture that someone had taken full control of his body without his breathing becoming labored and terror washing over him. He actually relaxed as he was carried back to the carriage. He didn't know what this meant for him, or his feelings for Sebastian, but he knew they had grown too strong to ignore any longer.

 

“Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what have I done?  
I’ve fallen in love with a man on the run  
Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I’m begging you please  
Don’t take that sinner from me  
Oh don’t take that sinner from me

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what do I do?  
I’ve fallen for someone who’s nothing like you  
He’s raised on the edge of the devil’s backbone  
Oh I just wanna take him home  
…  
Give me the burden, give me the blame  
I’ll shoulder the load, and I’ll swallow the shame  
Give me the burden, give me the blame  
How many, how many Hail Marys is it gonna take?  
Don’t care if he’s guilty, don’t care if he’s not  
He’s good and he’s bad and he’s all that I’ve got  
Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I’m begging you please  
Don’t take that sinner from me  
Oh don’t take that sinner from me.”


	9. Friends In Low Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter with some backstory to Grell and Undertaker's friendship. Thank you to everyone for your continued support, I'm so happy you're enjoying the story!

University Year 2

William ran a hand through his hair, which fell defiantly back onto his forehead. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses. They were irritated from the fringe of hair that always hung in front of them but he just couldn't seem to keep it out of his way. He returned to his studies. The library would only be open another half hour and, as top of his class, his professors had high expectations of him. He reread the same line three times before he looked up to figure out what was distracting him. 

Across the dim room he saw long legs crossed, belonging to a slender body sitting on a desk. His eyebrow twitched when he recognized the heeled boots usually hidden under the redhead's dress pants, and his companion, some freak who wasn't even a student. “Honestly,” he muttered, closing his book. How was he supposed to focus while those two sniggered like schoolgirls?

Neither of them paid him any attention. He didn't even know that much about them, just that the one with the red hair had a reputation for being disliked not only for his enviable grades but also his conceited personality. The other one had long grey hair but the disposition of someone not much older than them, and as far as William knew, wasn't a student. He saw them together every now and then. The man in the black cloak seemed to be his ostentatious classmate's only friend. Outcasts stuck together, he supposed.

“Excuse me,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

They carried on, and he cleared his throat loudly to say, “Excuse me, gentlemen. This is a library and I would appreciate you taking your disrespectful conduct outside.”

Finally, silence fell. The two men looked at each other then back to William. He allowed himself a moment of pride for having settled the matter without the librarian. It wasn't a great surprise, as he had a natural air of authority.

“This is a library,” parroted the grey haired one, and fell over laughing. It was hysterical to the point of being mad.

The red head came over to lean across William's desk. In contrast to his friend's high pitched laughter, his eyes were hard and serious. He tilted his head as he leaned quite close to William. “Think you can give me orders, hm? Do you know who I am?”

“I do not,” William said, keeping his voice level. Showing weakness would do him no favors.

A hand lashed out and before he could react both him and his chair were flat on the ground. He wheezed and put a hand to his chest. It felt as though every breath of air he'd ever drawn had just been knocked out of his body. Two figures swam into view above him, and the redhead smiled almost girlishly. “You do now,” he said, and blew him a kiss before stepping over him to leave.

 

Present Day

William closed the file on his desk. He had finally found a way to keep the hair out of his eyes with some product and a comb but his glasses still never quite stayed where they were supposed to. He stood up and stretched before going out into the main room, which was almost too quiet. Things had mostly gone back to normal since Alois passed nearly a month earlier, but it didn't seem real. It was just easier to pretend everything was okay until you believed it yourself rather than acknowledge the pain.

Grell's office door stood open as well. A quick peak inside told him it was empty. He leaned in the doorway and stared at the vacant desk. His feelings toward Grell had always been black and white since he hired him; he wouldn't have hired him if he didn't know he could separate his personal feelings from his professional ones. There had been no personal ones to speak of. The Grell of present was a shell of the one he knew in university. 

That was the trouble, though, wasn't it? He set his jaw, teeth clenched in frustration. They had both been overcompensating for their own doubts and insecurities in university. Grell wore an armor of anger and intimidation while William had lurked in a bubble of isolation and silence. Now Grell was exactly who he was without fear, and dared anyone to have a go at him. William hadn't changed. He was still in his bubble, alone, and a part of him resented Grell for being able to conquer his demons when he couldn't himself. 

“Mr. Speeeeaaars?”

He turned to see the Undertaker smiling, stretching the scar running the length of his face in a grotesque manner. Ugh, he hadn't missed the man. Throughout school he'd never known his name (he still didn't, only what he went by) but when he started working at the orphanage he discovered this man was a fixture of the underworld. 

“I assume you aren't here to adopt.”

“Oh no, I like my children nice and cold. I was just popping by to check on Grell.”

William stiffened. “Dr. Sutcliff is fine, and you should call on him at his residence. We don't allow personal business to be taken up at work.”

“Very well then. I'll just be leaving these.”

He glided past William into the office and sat a bouquet of dead roses on Grell's desk, seemingly housed in an urn. William raised an eyebrow. Was that supposed to be a kind gesture? Furthermore, what business did this old creep have bringing Grell flowers?

“I'll show myself out,” Undertaker said when William made to escort him to the door.

William watched him go and retreated into his office. Suddenly, he didn't want to be looking at Grell's desk.

 

University Year 1

Grell ran along the sidewalk, holding his coat over his head. Hell with rain, this was a monsoon! His makeup was going to be a mess. This was what he got for wanting to go for a walk to clear his head. University was more of a challenge than even he had expected and fresh air had done him wonders until the heavens opened up and took a right good piss on him.

He stopped and looked around. This wasn't the way back to school...great. Just great! He was lost. He dropped his arms to his sides and gave a dramatic sigh of defeat, allowing the rain to pelt his body and beloved hair. His coat was too soaked to offer much protection now anyway. 

“This doesn't look like a good side of town for a lady to be wandering at night,” he fretted, looking around. He rubbed his arms and shivered. He was going to have a nasty cold tomorrow, he just knew it.

Well, it wasn't getting any earlier. He ducked under an awning and looked up and down the street but he didn't recognize anything. He slid down the wall of the building onto the sidewalk and dropped his head back. There was no chance he'd find his way back to school until he had some daylight. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself. It was cold, and he was so sleepy. Maybe he could just rest until the sunlight in his eyes woke him up.

There was no sunlight when he awoke. In fact, it seemed even darker than before. He was in a dusty room lit only by a couple candles, and it smelt of death and cookies. He coughed and sat up. I should have known better than to sleep in a strange place, he chided himself. Leave it to the shady types in this part of town to take advantage of a lady stranded in the rain.

“Good morning my pretty.”

He turned to see a tall man emerging from the next room with a plate of biscuits. Most of his face was obscured by hair and he wore a sweeping black robe but somehow his smile made him seem welcoming. Grell stood up and discovered he had been laying on a coffin. Ew.

“Where am I?”

“Same place you were when ya went to sleep, this is Undertaker's.”

Grell took a biscuit when the plate was held out to him. “Why am I in here?”

“I couldn't just leave you out there in the cold. Not to mention, you living ones make this place smell funny.”

“Right...”

They looked at each other in awkward silence. Or at least Grell felt like he was being looked at, as he couldn't see the man's eyes. Coffins lined the walls and the man before him was as mysterious as they came, but for some reason Grell didn't feel threatened. He took another biscuit and sat back down. The silver haired man had a scarred face and long, black nails. He was a fashion nightmare but Grell couldn't bring himself to judge the person who had given him a warm place to sleep.

“I'm Grell,” he finally said.

“Nice to meetcha, my lady. I'm the Undertaker.”

Grell stared in surprise for a minute before smiling. He always had to correct people for calling him sir! He didn't have much by way of friends but, sitting there on a coffin sharing warm biscuits with a stranger, he couldn't help but think he had ended up outside this particular shop for a reason. “Nice to meet you.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a slow week and I've had nothing better to do than write, don't judge me for posting so often lol

In the weeks since Alois' funeral, the change in their relationship had become stable and constant. They maintained a polite, civil manner in front of others, and soon it was only when they were together that Ciel felt he could be himself. He could express his hatred for the system without his parents looking at him with concern, he could vent about the world's many injustices and Sebastian seemed to thirst for his anger rather than try to repress it. 

After the rest of the house retired, Sebastian would sometimes return to his room. He would never admit it to the butler but he always waited up in case he heard the single, soft rap at his door. Almost two months after Alois passed away that familiar sound made his heart skip. He whispered for Sebastian to come in, though he never understood how he heard him. A moment later Sebastian slipped into the room and joined him on the bed. He sat on the edge and observed Ciel, who was sitting up against the headboard.

“It's been awhile,” Ciel said, trying to sound flippant.

“Indeed. I have had to spend much of my time in your father's company.”

Ciel wanted to ask details but he knew it was a waste of breath. He toyed with the idea of admitting that he had missed Sebastian's visits but thought better of it. He wanted to seem interested but not dependent. They had only seen each other in passing and, with only a couple feet between them, he was reminded how delicious Sebastian smelled. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

“Master,” he heard Sebastian whisper, and then he was being kissed.

He gasped but melted in an instant. Sebastian always kissed him goodnight after he sneaked a visit, a soft brushing of their lips together. This was nothing like that. It was passionate and fierce, and consumed Ciel just as their first one did. He rose onto his knees and pushed Sebastian onto his back. In the moon's glow his butler's raven colored hair fanned out on the bed and his skin seemed to be made of the moonlight itself. He straddled Sebastian's waist and joined their lips once more.

Sebastian always led, but somehow he knew exactly what to do. His face grew hot as his tongue tangled with Sebastian's...he must be doing a good job if the hardness he could feel pressed against his leg was any indication. In a sudden rush of confidence he reached down and palmed the erection straining against the butler's slacks. Sebastian growled into the kiss and Ciel moved his hand around experimentally. His fingers trembled as he unfastened his pants and worked them down. 

Sebastian watched him with hunger as his lower body was exposed, and Ciel met his eyes as he wrapped his fingers around Sebastian's bare flesh. He had no idea what felt good but everything he was doing seemed to be driving Sebastian mad. When he decided they would do more than kiss tonight, he didn't know either but nothing between them ever seemed to go as planned. He tried to find a rhythm as he moved his hand up and down Sebastian's sizable (terrifying) arousal.

“I...I want you.”

He paused to look back to Sebastian who was silent at first. His eyes were the brightest red he'd ever seen them, and there was no denying his pupils were slitted. Ciel slowly began to move his hand again. There was very little he was afraid of and Sebastian was not among those things.   
He was debating if he should repeat himself when Sebastian said, “Are you quite sure you're ready for me?”

Ciel scoffed. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Sebastian sat up and reversed their positions. His cock pressed against Ciel's stomach, which was left exposed by his shirt riding up about his waist. He arched into the feeling and kissed Sebastian again. In truth, he wasn't sure, but he didn't know how he could be when he'd never done anything like this. He was sure that it was wrong but so were many things and there was never a stop put to those. If life had taught him anything it was that you had to take what you wanted, it wouldn't be handed to you. And he wanted Sebastian.

He had to turn and bite down on the sheets to stifle his moans when Sebastian began to touch him in the same way he had been touching Sebastian, with much more skill and purpose. Ciel's whole body seemed to be on fire. He felt like his heart was going to explode if it beat any faster and everything below his waist was as tight as the strings on Sebastian's violin. Sebastian played his body with equal dexterity. 

“Seb-Sebastian!” he cried, shaking too hard to control it any longer. “I don't know what's happening..”

There was a growl in his ear that was unlike anything he'd ever heard from a human being. It seemed not to come only from his butler from every corner of the room. His eye shot open as the tension in his body rapidly became more than he could stand. He then saw Sebastian's face in the room's silver light. His eyes gave off a light of their very own, and the teeth that showed between his parted lips were sharper than they had been just moments ago. There was a strange shadow behind him that seemed to be moving of its own accord. He gasped, bewildered and sure his eye was playing tricks on him though he knew this wasn't the case.

Sebastian's eyes darkened as he realized what Ciel was seeing. He lurched to his feet even as Ciel reached out. Ciel's fingers closed on empty air, and he found himself alone. There was a wetness on his ear and when he wiped it away, his fingers came back with a faint smear of blood. He stared at the still closed door. It felt like a hundred questions had just been answered but left a thousand more in their place.

 

He didn't see much of Sebastian after that night. The butler stayed close to his parents, and after a week of late nights Ciel stopped waiting up for him. He started spending most of his free time in the manor's library, pouring over everything from fiction to medical journals, determined to find a logical way to explain Sebastian. This also kept him from thinking too much of what had almost happened before Sebastian fled. He had not only tried to give his body to a man, but one who was much older and who he knew very little about. Well, he was going to know more. It didn't have to come from Sebastian's mouth for him to learn the truth.

He took advantage of the distance between them. Without his peculiar relationship with the butler to distract him he could put all his effort into uncovering the manor's secrets. He began slipping seemingly innocent questions into conversations with his parents in hopes they would say something useful, but they were tight lipped and he discovered the same of the servants. They were respectful and loyal but every bit as secretive as his new family. He assumed that, like Sebastian, they were under orders to keep their mouths shut.

In the process of trying to gain information he let his parents past his defenses. He couldn't say exactly when the change took place, but walks around the grounds with his father turned into Vincent reading him stories before bed, Rachel fussing over his clothes became less of a habit than a gesture of affection, and before he knew it there were people in the world he cared about other than himself. Soon he had no choice but to accept he loved them. 

“Are you sure you want me to read you something so dark?” Vincent asked one night, holding up the book of poetry Ciel had given him.

Ciel snuggled into his father's shoulder and nodded. “I find myself better equipped to appreciate the light that way.”

“Spoken like my son if I ever had one.” The words brought about a now familiar warmth in Ciel's chest. He closed his eye and let his father's voice envelop him like a blanket, as it offered every bit as much comfort. “Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, thus much let me avow – You are not wrong, who deem that my days have been a dream...”

His father's voice seemed to get further and further away. Every now and then the words he spoke were clear but they were quickly becoming a fading lullaby. Sleep claimed Ciel and his father's voice accompanied him into his dreams. It seemed to ward off his nightmares; the faces of his torturers did not appear, nor did the brand on his ribs wake him with searing, phantom pain. He dreamed of a life where he was raised by the Phantomhives, growing up knowing a parent's love. 

In his dream Sebastian took the form of a massive crow perched on Vincent's shoulder. The longer he was asleep, the harder the crow's talons seemed to dig in, and Ciel began to toss and turn as they drew a steady trickle of blood from his father's chest. Vincent's shirt seemed to evaporate wherever the blood touched it. He was reaching for Ciel as his bare skin was revealed, face tormented as he said, “Oh God can I not save one from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem-”

“But a dream within a dream?” Ciel finished, stretching desperately to take his father's hand, only to fall backward when a glowing pentagram was revealed on Vincent's bare chest. The crow screeched but it sounded wrong...it was too loud.

Ciel sat bolt upright, pouring cold sweat, just before the next gunshot rang out. He tripped over the sheets as he scrambled out of bed. He groped blindly in the darkness for the cane his parents had gotten him. There was another flash outside the window. He leaned on the gilded handle of the cane, eye transfixed outside. Another flash illuminated two figures on the front lawn, one distinctly female and the other a small male.

“Mey-Rin? Finnian?” he wondered aloud, and yanked a pair of trousers on before running out of the room. 

He had just hit the floor of the main hall when strong hands seized him and lifted him. One of the windows at the front of the house shattered in tandem with another gunshot, and he could only duck as Sebastian ran out of the house so fast his feet seemed not to touch the ground. The humid air was suffocating. He called out for Vincent and Rachel, but in the darkness he could only see the manor disappearing from view.

“Take me back to my parents!” he cried, trying to wrestle his way out of Sebastian's arms.

“They are safe, let the servants protect the manor,” he said, unfazed by Ciel's efforts.

“What's going on?” Ciel demanded.

He didn't get an answer until they had traveled a long way through the woods. They emerged somewhere on the road that led up to the manor. Ciel swayed when Sebastian sat him on his feet at last. They stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking infinite forest. Ciel looked back at the woods they had just come from, and though he clutched his cane, he sunk to his knees on the damp rock.

“They were looking for you, my lord,” Sebastian said.

Ciel was sure his heart had stopped beating, and wasn't sure it would start again. “How do you know that?”

There was a long pause before Sebastian said, “Because they burned down the orphanage before they came here.”


	11. House of the Rising Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need something to read, my lovelies! I would be glad to R&R for you too so feel free to leave your own story as a suggestion! I read SebastianxCiel, SebastianxGrell, GrellxUT, and Grelliam (:

“Oh daaaarling, I have lunch!”

William looked up to find Grell leaning in the doorway of his office holding a rolled up paper bag, hand on his hip. He sighed. Grell had been working for him for a couple months and they had never talked about college. He could feel the tension between them, the mutual knowledge of his broken promise, but they skirted the subject like it was poisonous. Grell was always chattering but never saying anything. His words were often just empty things to fill the space between them.

“I'm not your darling,” he said, though he was already making room among his paperwork for the food to be sat down.

Instead of taking the chair across from him, Grell perched on the side of the desk as always, boots resting on the gleaming hardwood floor. He was wearing the same feminine perfume William had gotten used to and he drank with his pinky up. William observed him from the corner of his eye while they had lunch. Grell's hair had mostly fallen out of his braid and tangled slightly with the chain on his glasses but unfortunately he was lovely. This was unfortunate because Grell knew good and well the attention he drew, but no matter how many people cut him funny looks or called him a freak, he seemed to pity their narrow minds rather than let them affect his confidence.

When they cleaned up from lunch Grell lingered while William caught up on paperwork. It seemed to multiply as fast as the amount of children in his care. He wasn't through his first page when the fidgeting and fussing next to him became too distracting, and he looked up again with an exasperated sigh.

“What in the devil are you doing, Sutcliff?”

“I'm trying to get my-ow! Oh, dear. My hair's a dreadful mess.”

“Perhaps you should cut it, then.”

Grell scowled at him as he tried to unravel one of his long hairs from his glasses chain. “What kind of lady cuts her hair off because it's a mere inconvenience? I wouldn't dream of taking the easy way out!” 

After a few more dramatic cries of pain William slammed his file down. “Oh, come here. Sit.”

Grell flounced into his newly vacated chair with a big smile. He had learned if he carried on long enough William would cave and put them both out of their misery. William stood behind him and began the tedious process of putting his hair back in order, feigning deaf to the happy sounds Grell was making at his touch. He wove it back into a long plait and let it fall against Grell's back. “There. Now go get some work done.”

“Such a slave driver. That's alright though, I am every bit as strong as the red string of fate tied between us, my love!” Grell jumped to his feet, planted a kiss of gratitude on Will's cheek and ran out of the office before he could be reprimanded. William felt his eyebrows contracting with frustration. A couple of the children had been passing by and giggled as they peered into William's office. He closed the door on their prying eyes and situated himself behind his desk again. He repeated every day that he wasn't Grell's darling, but he seemed to be the only one who believed it.

))((

“There is a house in New Orleans  
They call the Rising Sun  
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy  
And God, I know I'm one.”

))((

William opened his eyes. He couldn't recall dreaming but he was suddenly wide awake and his heart was racing. He groped for his glasses and put them on. A quick evaluation of the room told him nothing was out of sorts there, but he was still stricken with a sense of urgency, of panic. He got up and pulled his robe over his pajamas, trying to shake the hair out of his eyes at the same time. Why did each second feel so precious?

He put on his shoes without knowing where he was going. His instincts were screaming that something was wrong. It was worse than the feeling he'd got when the nurse, Larieta, came running towards him the night Alois killed himself. He made a rare decision to follow his gut and took the stairs two at a time until he reached the street. There was a smell in the air that made him taste bile in the back of his throat. Like something cooking? No...something burning.

Burning. He staggered to a halt for an instant, then his legs were moving and his body seemed to be propelled with more adrenaline than it could withstand. His orphanage, his children, his…

“Grell!” he shouted as though he could be heard from this far away. 

He didn't know how he could be certain that it was the orphanage ablaze, that the smoke he saw rising from the next block was from that very building, but he didn't have a doubt in his mind. He heard people shouting before he rounded the corner. When he came to a stop, his worst nightmare played out before him.

The wood was already collapsing. Smoke poured from the windows. He heard screams from inside, and in a single moment, his carefully assembled world shattered. 

Hands tried to grasp him but he ran past the crowd into the flames. He didn't try to entertain the hope that Grell had gone home after he left, the doctor had been working even more than him since Alois, trying to monitor and counsel the children. Grell had been dozing in his chair when William left. He had been asleep and William had left him there defenseless. Him and the children were all engulfed in the flames he was currently making his way through. Once more, a tragedy had befallen the place he was responsible for in his absence.

He covered his mouth and nose with his robe before the smoke could enter his lungs. There was a sea of thrashing bodies trying to find a way out, most of them covered by too thick of a cover of smoke for him to distinguish. He grabbed them by the armfuls and pushed them out the door. Some of the younger children had already been outside when he arrived, making him assume the older ones were upstairs trying to evacuate the place.

Grell's office was incinerated. There was no telling if he had been inside. William felt his throat close up from more than smoke inhalation, but he kept pushing through. There was more than one life depending on him. He ducked under a flaming rafter that nearly fell across his path and wiped his eyes under his glasses. They were almost watering too badly for him to see. He felt along the hot walls until he reached the place the stairs should have been. He felt and felt for the handrail. Had he gotten turned around?

Then he saw the planks of wood burning away. He saw what remained of the staircase, and the dozens of wide, fearful eyes looking down at it. “No...” he said through a fit of wheezing and coughing. They were trapped.

He grabbed the wall, searching for purchase, for any way he could reach them. Some were already unconscious from smoke inhalation, being supported by the kids next to them. They all watched William with expressions of unbearable hope. There were children that couldn't escape their rooms and every one of their screams ripped him apart from the inside.

He was lightheaded when he managed to reach the stairs that led up from the mess hall. He could hear the old, dry wood crackling as he climbed them but he didn't slow down until there were children in his arms. The fire seemed to have started upstairs, as it had progressed far worse up there. He emptied as many rooms as he could, getting dizzier all the while, and it wasn't until he opened the last door that he saw a flash of red that did not belong to the flames.

He tried to say Grell's name but his throat was too dry from retching. He hit his knees to see the doctor leaning over Mally, hands covered in blood. He crawled over and saw that the girl's leg was trapped under part of the collapsed ceiling...and it was no longer attached to her body. The girl was unconscious but breathing. 

“Get her out of here,” Grell choked.

He managed to raise his voice to a pained whisper. “You're coming with me.”

“I can't walk, Will, and you'll barely be able to support her never mind carrying us both. Get her out of here before it's too late for all of us.” There was a strip of metal in his hand, possibly from the frame of a bed, and his eyes were fixed blankly on the charred stump where Mally's leg used to be. William fought the urge to get sick again; Grell had cauterized the wound.

William turned Grell's face toward him. “I abandoned you once I won't do it again.”

“Like hell!”

He was surprised Grell still had the strength but the doctor gave him a hard slap across the face. He had his hand pressed to his cheek, quite shocked, when Grell said, “This isn't college, Will. I needed you after graduation but now Beast needs you. Don't make me go on living knowing that her life was spared for mine. Before anything else...I'm a doctor...I couldn't live with myself...”

His voice had been breaking up steadily until finally he couldn't speak at all. He fell sideways from where he had been on his knees. William caught him and lowered him onto the floor. Parts of his hair were singed but there was enough of it for William to see what remained of a messy braid, and he was sure he was half delirious when he started trying to untangle it. All the times he had taken this small thing for granted...he had only ever rolled his eyes when Grell would habitually kiss him on the cheek for fixing his beloved hair, but now he would have sold his soul for one more flirtatious glance, one last time to be called darling.

He wrenched himself away and lifted Mally from the pool of blood left by the emergency amputation. He collapsed twice before he made it out of the door. There were voices, there was someone taking her from him. He could feel the heat of the fire but everything was dark. Hands were guiding him away, but with some last reserve of strength, he fought their grasp.

“Take her. I have to...Grell.”

The fire engulfed the only door out of Mally's room just after he passed through it. He heard shouting, someone calling him a fool, but he was staying conscious by determination alone. He began to drag Grell away from the blaze spreading inward from the door. The window had shattered, and he managed to get his head far enough out for a deep breath of air. He pulled Grell toward him and curled around him, powerless to do anything except use his body to shield him from the flames. The world started to slip away until a shard of glass stabbed his leg. The pain was acute and stinging and precisely what he needed.

If someone asked him after it was all said and done, he wouldn't have been able to stay how he fought the effects of smoke inhalation and severe burns long enough to get Grell out. He only knew that at the time he had no choice but to make up for taking the easy way out after college, to accept that he had found someone's life he wanted to put before his own. There was no hard or easy way out now. Only one way.

He fell backwards out of the window with Grell in his arms. Before he lost consciousness he felt the wind whistling past his ears and knew his back was headed straight for the cobblestone street below, right where he wanted it. He hadn't been able to keep from failing everyone in his life so far, but perhaps Grell could be the first. Perhaps that red string of fate could hold them together long enough for Grell to live.  
This thought offered him an instant of peace before his body hit the ground.

))((

“Oh mother, tell your children  
Not to do what I have done  
Spend your lives in sin and misery  
In the House of the Rising Sun.”


	12. Chapter 12

Ciel spent his fourteenth birthday on the run.   
The latest safe house (safe manor, really) was in Paris, France. At one time he would have been excited about his first time traveling. Now, he spent his time fearing for his parents, wondering the fate of his fellow orphans. They had fled London the night of the assault and gave him little explanation for why he was being targeted. He didn't need his father to tell him it was by his previous captors, that was a simple deduction, but why now? He thought he deserved answers now more than ever but as usual he was left in the dark.

He pushed away his untouched dinner. Sebastian gave him a concerned look that he ignored. Sure, the food was delicious and the manor they stayed at was lavish, but a beautiful prison is still a prison. The size of the lodgings just reminded him how empty they felt. After entrusting him to Sebastian's care, his parents had returned to London to pursue the people who were after him. It was that night he began to put the pieces together. The secretive meetings, the late outings...a butler who seemed better trained in the skills of an assassin than folding towels. 

He'd heard rumors of the Queen's guard dog at the orphanage. Or, as he had now learned, guard dogs. They fit the bill so perfectly he was angry at himself for not realizing it sooner. The Aristocrats of Evil.

“You should be protecting them instead of me,” Ciel said, not for the first time.

“My orders are to remain by your side. I prefer those orders, if I am to be honest.” 

Sebastian smiled as he knelt by the breakfast table and cupped the side of Ciel's face in his hand. He ran his thumb along the bottom of Ciel's eye patch. Ciel closed his eye as he could not bear the affection in Sebastian's scarlet gaze. He wanted his life back, if not the one where he had his parents, then to be back at the orphanage where he didn't have to be troubled to care for anyone but himself. Life had been easier, then.

He knocked Sebastian's hand away and stood up. “Don't touch me, devil.”

It had been a week since they left London and they hadn't spoken of what he had seen. At the mention of it, Sebastian stood up with a hard look. “You had your suspicious long before you saw my true nature, and they were of no bother to you until you needed somewhere to put your anger.”

“Oh listen to you sounding hurt, as if you can feel such a thing. You're just disappointed because I'm not under your spell anymore and you can't, I don't know, eat me or whatever your intentions were.”

When Sebastian responded his elongated fangs flashed and the depth of his anger began to show. “I don't have the power of mind control. Your thoughts and desires were purely your own when you accepted me. Furthermore, you are not my next meal, of that I can assure you.”

They stared at each other until Ciel turned on his heel and left the room. The short heels on his shoes clicked against the white marble floor, echoing throughout the desolate house. There was very little furnishings and even fewer guests. It was only Ciel and Sebastian but even that number dwindled to one as Ciel strode out the front door. He was pleasantly surprised that he wasn't followed. He walked the cold streets at a fast, infuriated pace but no sense of direction.

Sebastian had spent the morning trying to pretend like everything was fine, pampering Ciel for his birthday like some sort of royalty. He saw right through the butler's efforts to ensnare him once more. Once he was reunited with his family he could see to having him removed from the household, perhaps the old man with the tea could be his butler. Making these plans gave him both satisfaction and an odd hollow feeling. 

He leaned back against a dingy stone wall and let his blank stare fall on the bistro across the street from him. No one gave him a second look. No one cared that he was the hunted, elusive Ciel Phantomhive, child to the Queen's right and left hands. He was just a shivering boy in an eyepatch. He watched a couple walk by and snorted. City of Love, eh? What a fickle thing love could be. He couldn't deny, not even to himself, that he had feelings for Sebastian. No, the idea of Sebastian. The vampire or demon or whatever the Hell he was had made Ciel feel safe and wanted, two things that he had never had or wanted until that devil came into his life. Then Sebastian gave them to him and it was wonderful while the illusion lasted.

It was true that he hadn't been bothered when he saw Sebastian in his bedroom that night. Somehow he had let himself think nothing had changed except he knew Sebastian was not of this world, but when his mind cleared after the attack on the manor, he accepted whatever Sebastian was couldn't possibly be capable of caring for him.

The smell of the bistro was calling to him. It looked bright and warm in there. He started toward it, but his foot wavered on the edge of the sidewalk. He cursed and turned away once more. It wouldn't do for his parents to return to a kidnapped or dead son. There was no telling whose eyes were on him, or where they might be lurking. He resolved to go back to the safe house. The sight of the place silhouetted against the twilit sky lowered his spirits even further.

Sebastian opened the door before he reached it. “My lord.”

Ciel walked past him and up the stairs in silence. He found a roaring fire in his room along with a plate of freshly baked cookies and a glass of milk. Naturally, Sebastian had known when he would arrive. The inhuman butler had probably been following him. He sunk into the chair in front of the fire and stared at the cookies. He wanted nothing prepared for him by that man, if such a word could be used on Sebastian, but his stomach rumbled in protest. He had almost made it through the plate of them when he heard the music.

It was coming from downstairs. He put his half eaten cookie down to listen. The distinct sound of the violin filled the manor with a mournful, lonely song. He felt like his breastbone had collapsed and crushed his heart. The strings seemed to be crying out every bit of the grief he had felt and even that which he had caused others. A powerful thing, music was. He finished his plate and took it downstairs.

The music had not stopped when he emerged from the kitchen. He lingered in the doorway, torn between a scathing remark and silence. For the time being he chose the latter. Sebastian stood in front of the window, drawing the bow so smoothly across the strings that he and the instrument appeared to be one entity. Ciel went a bit closer. In the low candlelight, he could believe Sebastian's expression was one of true sadness.

“You play as though you feel something.”

Sebastian stilled. His face hardened into an emotionless mask. He tucked his violin against his side and bowed. “Forgive me for disturbing you, young master.”

Ciel shuffled his feet a bit as he looked at the butler. It was as though someone had doused his anger with cold water. He took another step closer, avoiding Sebastian's eyes. He didn't want to go back upstairs but he wouldn't appear weak in front of Sebastian, either. He wasn't ready to admit that he had, as Sebastian said, just needed someone to take his frustrations out on. 

“You imitate human sadness well.” It was both an insult and a compliment, he supposed.

“I was human once, you know.”

“Really?” Ciel blurted out before he could stop himself.

“It has been many centuries, now, but all of my kind were human before they were demons.”

Demons. He was an honest-to-the-devil demon. Also, he was a few hundred years old...awkward. “So you remember how it felt?”

“Not until recently.”

Ciel was going to inquire further when he caught Sebastian's meaning. He stared at the butler, throat suddenly tight. He looked out the window at the twinkling lights of the city. He wished he could see all the way to London. He didn't know the fate of the children, he didn't know if his parents were alright. He didn't know what to make of Sebastian Michaelis. The endless uncertainty was enough to drive a person mad.

“I want to believe I'm not just something to amuse you, I'm sure I wouldn't be the first in your long life,” he admitted.

Sebastian laughed but it lacked any real happiness. “But the first, you are, my lord.”

“How?”

“You think I would make a habit of taking a liking to your lot as something more than my dinner? I would endure limitless ridicule by my kind if they knew I had fallen for a human.”

“I wouldn't think a demon could just fall for someone.”

“I wouldn't think you would be into older men.”

Ciel laughed. “Touche.”

The tension between them seemed to dissolve. He still didn't know what to think of Sebastian but he was good enough at reading people to tell he wasn't being lied to. Besides, if he was going to be Ciel's only company until his parents let him return to London, he may as well make the best of it. He let himself walk within arm's reach of Sebastian. For a blissful moment he forgot his fears and his doubts, and forgot that there were other people in the world besides the two of them.

Sebastian placed his violin on the window ledge. He dropped to one knee, and Ciel went into his arms. He kissed Sebastian until he felt an energy vibrating around him and only then did he pull away. Sebastian blinked his hellish eyes, fangs visible over his lip. Ciel put his finger to one of those sharp teeth and hissed when a drop of blood welled up. Damn, they were like razors. 

Sebastian licked the blood away, moaning softly. It was erotic and horrifying. Ciel let him do it, and surprised himself even more when he didn't stop what Sebastian did next. The butler reached behind him and loosened the knot at the back of his head. After a questioning look from Sebastian and his nod of assent he felt his eye patch slip off. He gasped when a gloved finger touched his face, tracing the lines of scar tissue.

“No more hiding,” Sebastian said, lowering himself onto both knees.

Ciel leaned closer. “No more secrets.”

Sebastian picked him up and carried him upstairs. He could have carried him to the moon and Ciel wouldn't have noticed since they were locked into a kiss on the way up. He left Ciel on the bed while he prepared a hot bath, then began to undress him. Ciel tensed but allowed himself to be stripped. Sebastian caressed him with each article of clothing he removed, pausing after each one to give Ciel time to stop him. When he finished he lifted Ciel and eased him into the hot water. Ciel watched him light candles around the large porcelain tub, seeming to do so with a mere touch of his fingers.

“Do you not intend to join me?”

“You want me to?”

They had agreed no more secrets, best to go ahead and speak the truth. “I'd be more comfortable if I wasn't the only one undressed.”

“Very well.”

He couldn't take his eyes off Sebastian as more and more of his flawless skin was revealed. His body seemed to be made of marble, crafted by the hand of God rather than the devil. Ciel wondered if he had been this perfect when he was a human. He slid forward, felt Sebastian settle in behind him, and sat back against the demon's chest. Sebastian's long legs stretched out on either side of his and his hands came up to massage Ciel's shoulders. Ciel exhaled deeply. Between the hot water easing his muscles and Sebastian's talented hands he feared he may melt as fast as the candle wax.

Sebastian pulled his hair behind his ear and kissed his temple. “Happy Birthday, young master.”

Ciel turned his head to rest his cheek on Sebastian's chest. He couldn't be truly happy again until he was reunited with his parents but right now he had this, and it was enough.


	13. Young and Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings/tags: Character death, previous Grell/UT relationship, generally depressing content.
> 
> I'm kinda shipping Grell/UT but I promised a Grelliam story (who I also love) so I'm torn. Thoughts?

Vincent ran his hands through his hair for the billionth time. The nervous tic offered him no relief. He wondered if Bard and Finnian were keeping Rachel safe, and where Ciel was. There was no telling who could overhear the wrong thing so he had told Sebastian to keep their locations a secret, even from him. When the time came he would call to Sebastian and wherever he was the demon would hear him. Until then he could only swallow his fear and keep working.

He plucked a splinter out of the aging coffin. “How many?”

“I'll be havin' a busy day,” Undertaker said.

“How many?”

Undertaker raised his face from his desk. He had stopped Vincent from telling him a joke, he said he couldn't laugh if he was trying his hardest. This was enough to tell Vincent he wasn't going to get any good news. Death was an old friend to the Undertaker, he had never seen it affect the man before. Now the mortician was slumped over his desk looking defeated. This amount of bodies should have delighted him, especially as damaged as they were, but he looked as devoid of life as his patrons.

“Nineteen children survived. No one else made it.”

Vincent grimaced. “Do the bodies bear any evidence we could use?”

“Not that I've found so far.”

He walked over to one of the adult sized caskets. He ran his fingers over the lid. It was of the highest craftsmanship, a masterpiece even for the Undertaker. It was the deepest of cherry toned woods and shined to an impeccable gloss. Vincent tilted the lid to the side, and found himself thrown against the wall with a bony hand around his throat.

“Don't you touch her,” Undertaker hissed, bangs falling away to reveal his furious green eyes.

Vincent sputtered as his feet lifted from the ground. “Wha...who…?”

Undertaker let him fall and stalked over to the red coffin. Vincent sat on the floor trying to regain his breath. He rubbed his throat, a bit disoriented. The Undertaker had always been eccentric but still the gentle sort. He walked over to stand next to him, careful not to get too close, and glimpsed the crimson hair laid out against white satin. In his mind's eye he saw a redheaded doctor leaning on William Spears' desk while they discussed adopting Ciel. He looked back to Undertaker. It was the first time he'd seen the man bothered by anything besides burning a pan of cookies.

“What was he doing there so late? I know William had a lot on his plate but what of the doctor?”

Undertaker laid on top of the coffin, tracing the grain of the wood with an overgrown fingernail. “She was a soft touch, y'know? It messed 'er up when that kid died. She felt responsible, she liked the little brat.”

“You knew him, then.” Vincent was quite confused, both by Undertaker's mournful attitude and by the fact he didn't seem to know the doctor was a man.

“She was me best friend!” Undertaker wailed, and for a minute he looked like he was going to rage at Vincent again, but he deflated back onto the coffin.

Vincent was eager to change the subject. He was there to work and it wasn't going to get done if he had to comfort this loon. He looked around at the many small, half finished coffins. It could have been Ciel in one of those if they hadn't adopted him. He thought of how it would feel to see his son in one of them, eternally young, his spirit forever gone from this world. His chest ached at the thought. Two pieces clicked together in his mind and though he wanted to get down to business, he couldn't help but voice his epiphany. 

“You loved the doctor.” To the following silence, he pressed, “Didn't you?”

There was a tortured, choked sound from under the veil of silver hair hiding Undertaker's face. “Her name was Grell. Before she was a doctor she was just a cold, wet student stranded out in the rain. She was just my Grell.”

Vincent imagined Rachel in a coffin next to Ciel's, and his impatience slipped away. He dared to rest a hand on Undertaker's quivering shoulder. “I'm sorry.”

 

“How do you get anything done in this?” Grell demanded, pulling the black robe back off and straightening his suit.

Undertaker frowned down at his own long robe and tugged at the scarf tied over his shoulder. “Huh?”

Grell rolled his eyes and sat sideways in Undertaker's lap. He pushed the long bangs out of his face to admire his usually hidden eyes. Their flirty banter had turned into a relationship after a couple months, and now, six months later, they had learned all there was to know about each other. He even knew the funeral director was a retired grim reaper. Undertaker seemed to have expecting him to be shocked or whatever but he'd believed in ghosts as a child, why not reapers? Besides, he was dating a god. That was awesome.

“You have such a nice body, why don't you wear some clothes that fit,” he said with a pout.

“'Cause these are comfy if you mus' know.”

Grell stuck his tongue out, only to be punished with a bout of tickling. He shrieked and tried to climb onto the desk but he was trapped in the chair, one hand holding him still and the other tickling his stomach. He begged for mercy through his laughter. Undertaker was laughing along with him. He tickled him until they were both breathless, and Grell's head hung over the arm of the chair as he panted. He gave Undertaker's ribs a retaliatory poke but Undertaker just giggled. 

They spent most of the evening in his morbid little shop talking about Grell's school work and the crazy things Undertaker had done in his lifetime. Grell leaned against his side while he worked on a coffin, handing him tools while he told a story about crossdressing during the French Revolution. He watched Undertaker's nimble hands carve a rose into the side of an oak coffin. He had never asked his lover's real name, as he assumed it was part of a life he had long since left behind, and he was simply Undertaker now.

He tugged on the taller man's sleeve. “After graduation will you take me to your favorite place that you've visited?”

“That's a long ways, yet.”

“Time will go by fast.”

Undertaker smiled. It was a sight many seemed to find unsettling, but Grell couldn't fathom not seeing the beauty in it. “Yes, m'dear, it always does.”

..............

“Hot summer nights, mid July  
When you and I were forever wild  
The crazy days, city lights  
The way you'd play with me like a child.”

..............

Vincent kicked a shard of the broken window. The manor was still being repaired from the attack. It was at least three in the morning, his wife long asleep, but he couldn't sleep for the life of him. He kept imagining a gunshot and the light going out of Rachel's eyes. Unlike Ciel, she was not protected by the contract. Her fragile life could be shattered as easily as the glass under his feet. He stared out at the deceptively peaceful night.

It had been a solid plan at one time. Adopt Ciel and use him as bait for the cult, and give Rachel a child in the meantime. He had expected the cult to eventually hunt Ciel down for knowing too much but he hadn't expected their attack to cause this many casualties. He had just wanted to fulfill his orders from the Queen to end the cult while protecting their newly adopted child. His plan had unraveled around him.

“You better be keeping him safe, you bastard,” he muttered, sick at the thought of leaving Ciel in his butler's hands. He knew Sebastian could protect him but he still wanted to be able to keep an eye on that perverse devil.

He had less than a month left. He thought of Ciel's guarded smile and wished more than anything he could have just a bit longer with his son, but his bed was made. 

 

“You've seemed out of sorts all night,” Grell remarked, sitting up.

Undertaker peered up at him. Hanging out in a coffin took some getting used to but Grell had long since become accustomed to cuddling (and doing other things) in one of Undertaker's beloved coffins. It's not like they were used. His morbid lover had seemed out of sorts all night, though, and it was starting to worry him.

“I'm no good for you, my lady.”

Grell laughed but when Undertaker didn't join in, he stopped and stammered, “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“I might look weathered, but I'm not getting no older,” Undertaker said. He climbed out of the coffin with Grell on his heels.

“So after all this time now you decide you don't want to be together because I'm not going to be young forever like you?”

Undertaker must have heard the anger in Grell's voice, for his own had softened when he said, “I can't grow old with you, one day you'll die and I'll keep living.”

“I know that, I've always known that!”

Undertaker started walking away again and Grell jumped a coffin to run after him. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The thought had occurred to him, too, but he had accepted it and wanted to be with a reaper anyway. If they stayed together then he would die and Undertaker would go on, probably fall in love again, and that was okay. Grell knew he couldn't be around for all of Undertaker's life but he had thought Undertaker wanted to be there for all of his.

He grabbed Undertaker's wrist and pulled him to a stop. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you, Grell, and I'm not strong like you.”

Grell felt his lip begin to tremble. “Of course you're strong, look at all you've been through...not that I see what difference it would make even if you weren't strong.”

Undertaker framed his face in his hands. He had pushed his bangs away, allowing Grell to look into his eyes. They were full of sadness and resignation. “I see it every day, your hair getting longer, gettin' a bit redder...you're getting older. To you humans you're just maturing but to me you're dying. Your lifetime is going to go by in a flash for me.”

“I'm terribly sorry that I'm not worth your time,” Grell spat.

“I would give you all me time if I could but I can't, and I can't watch you die, either.”

Grell reached up to take Undertaker's hands, knowing that his own had started to shake. “You can't leave me I'll miss you too much. You're the only person who has ever accepted me for who I am, who I feel like I am. You're the first person I've loved who has loved me back.”

“I wouldn't dare leave you an' then let you miss me.”

Grell felt his tears well up and spill down his cheeks. He started to ask what his lover meant when a strange pulse went through his body. He blinked as his vision blurred and he became disoriented. It was as though someone had reached inside him and started moving things around. He tried to move, only to fall against Undertaker. He tried to speak but could not.

“You'll still have someone who accepts you m'dear...you just won't remember that you loved this old bag o'bones, see?” Grell tried to scream, to beg, but he was too weak. “You won't know about reapers, neither. Your world will go back to normal.” I don't want it to go back! Grell yelled from inside, helplessly watching his tears splash onto the layer of dust on the floor. 

Undertaker held him close, grasping his face. There seemed to be electricity coming from his hands. Grell tried to hold on to every memory of the two of them but they slipped through his fingers like the finest grains of sand. Wave after wave of Undertaker's power washed them away. The room was going dark, his hold on the back of Undertaker's robe going slack. He reached desperately for his memories but he couldn't recall their first time or what color Undertaker's eyes were. He couldn't remember what was happening or why he was fighting back.  
By the time he collapsed he only knew that Undertaker had taken him in on a rainy night, and that he was a dear friend.

................................

“Will you still love me  
When I'm no longer young and beautiful?  
Will you still love me  
When I got nothing but my aching soul? “


	14. Quoth The Raven

Sebastian drew the curtains and looked around. He had spent much time on Earth while contracted but this time had been different. He ran his fingers over the mahogany writing desk. Though this was his room for the time they were in Paris, it had seen little use. Sleeping was more a way to pass the time than a necessity and he wasn't going to sleep until the cult of the noble beast was caught. He didn't know if he would be on Earth when they were caught, as his time had dwindled to less than a month. It was strange to think there was someone he would miss when he had to return to Hell.

Knock, knock.

As if summoned by Sebastian's thoughts, Ciel stood there, nightclothes rumpled and hair mussed. Sebastian couldn't help but smile. “You should be asleep, little lord.”

“I couldn't sleep.”

“Shall I bring you tea?”

Ciel fingered his eyepatch, looking a bit nervous. “Er, no that's okay. Can I...can I come in?”

“By all means.”

Sebastian stood back and watched his young master climb onto the bed that had yet to be slept on. He closed the door and lit a few more candles in the room since Ciel's vision was not as keen as his. Ciel sat up against the pillows, running one hand over the sheets, looking for all the world like he wanted to run back to the safety of his room. Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed and inquired as to what was wrong.

“Even though I wasn't there, I dream every night of watching the orphanage burn, of hearing the children scream. I imagine Mr. Spears and Dr. Sutcliff, and the nurse, the pain they must have felt. All that because someone wanted me.”

“You can't blame yourself, my lord. Your parents made a big statement to the papers about adopting you, they were so proud to have a son. Your previous captors learned you were no longer protected by the orphanage and thought they had an opening. You couldn't have known that, let alone prevented their actions.”

“If they knew I was adopted why did they burn down the orphanage?”

Sebastian sighed. He didn't want to make bad matters worse, but he was unable to lie to the young man in front of him. “Retaliation for your escape, I should think.”

Ciel ran his hands through his hair and dropped his head back against the wall, looking very much like his father for a moment. “Why now? Why not burn it down after I escaped with me still in it?”

“You would not suffer, then.”

They sat in silence for awhile. At one point Sebastian thought he had fallen asleep, but then he saw Ciel's eye fixed on the wall. He sighed and moved up next to him. Ciel didn't acknowledge him at first, but after a couple minutes he snapped out of his reverie and curled up against Sebastian's side. He looked as small and childlike as Sebastian had ever seen him. He could understand his young master's turmoil, how it would weigh heavy on his mind to be the reason many of his fellow orphans died, all while being separated from his parents.

Ciel picked up a book from the bedstand. “You're a fan of Poe as well?”

“I suppose I do care for it, yes.”

He placed the ragged paperback in Sebastian's hands. “Read it to me?”

Sebastian was surprised by the request but did not show it, lest those mile thick walls come back up around Ciel. He was enjoying being on the other side of those barriers. He turned to the page he had read most often. Ciel's arm came to rest around his waist, his head pillowed on Sebastian's shoulder. Sebastian looked at the page out of habit but read from memory.

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,  
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—  
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,  
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.”

He was aware of Ciel looking up at him while he read. Their faces were quite close, and Sebastian had to fight the urge to drop the book and kiss the solemn look right off his face. Instead, he continued, “’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—Only this and nothing more.”

He continued without interruption for some time. Ciel was alert but quiet, soaking up his words as though they were a tonic to his nerves. “Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!  
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!  
Quoth the Raven 'Nevermore.'”

He made to conclude the poem when Ciel took the book away and closed it. “That's enough...thank you.”

“I was nearly finished.”

“My father often reads me poetry until I fall asleep. I have never let him finish reading The Raven. It's such a grave tale yet full of dark hope, I don't wish to know how it ends.”

Confused but compliant, Sebastian let Ciel lean over to put the book back on the bedstand. “Very well.”

Sebastian wondered if they were still talking about the poem. It seemed destined to end badly, much like Ciel's own circumstances, laced with hope but also with the inevitable knowledge that its ending would not be a happy one. He stroked his young master's hair and closed his eyes. Moments like these deserved to be savored, as he wouldn't get many more of them. He traced the brand on Ciel's ribs, wondering when his own raven would come rapping at his chamber door to signal the end of his story.

 

Vincent checked his gun. It was fully loaded. He sheathed it under his coat and ascended the stairs to the seemingly abandoned mansion, but he had staked it out enough nights to know this was where the cult was hiding. He couldn't wait for them to come to him. Either they were regrouping once they realized how formidable the Phantomhive servants were or they had realized Ciel was no longer in London, but no matter the reason, Vincent couldn't keep waiting for their next strike. He had to take them down while he still could.

At the door he took a final moment to remember his life. It had been a good one, all things considered. His wife was beautiful and, though they had not been able to have children of their own, Ciel felt like he was made to be part of their family. Vincent smiled. He was glad there would be someone to help Rachel through her grief. Ciel would make a fine successor as the lord of the manor. Likewise he knew if anyone could keep Ciel from retreating back into his shell, it was his endlessly compassionate wife. 

He tried the doorknob to find it locked. He took a step back and blew the lock apart. The element of surprise didn't matter now. He kicked the door down and walked into a barrage of bullets, both his own and those of the cult. They seemed to be expecting him. He ducked behind a pillar to reload. It was blown apart right after he dropped to the ground, and his heart raced from the near miss. He had to stay alive long enough to end them.

Splinters of wood and the stuffing from furniture flew into the air as the mansion erupted into gunfire. He ripped his shirt open and felt the familiar tingle of the contract seal under his collarbone. “Sebastian!”

The room got considerably darker. Black feathers rose into the air, and when they settled to the ground a black clad butler stood at their center. Sebastian bowed and looked up with a fully demonized stare. “Yes, my lord.”

Together they made their way through the aging mansion. Vincent counted down as they felled cult members. In his time following them, he had learned how many members it had. Nine, he thought as he kicked a man off the stairs and heard the crunch of his bones on the floor below. There was a spray of blood as Sebastian tore a man's throat out. Eight.

By the time they reached the end of the last hallway only two remained. Vincent felt the end pressing down on him. It threatened to suffocate him but he thought of Rachel and Ciel living happily, and found the strength to open the last door. He didn't bother loading his gun when he walked into the vast, empty room. His deadliest weapon stood right next to him.

He stood across the room from the remaining two members. Going by the description Ciel had given the authorities and the sketch in his file, one of them was the leader. Vincent thought of Ciel's marred face and vigilant behavior as though he could be attacked at any time. He wouldn't let himself be a child and this scum was the reason for that. Vincent stored his gun once more.

“Sebastian, this is an order. Kill them...painfully.”

Vincent watched, unflinching as the men suffered. He saw Sebastian whisper something in the leader's ear and the man's eyes go wide before Sebastian laid him open with his claws. He stared down at his own intestines spilling out. Sebastian smiled, baring his fangs as he buried a single claw in one of the man's eyes. Vincent's stomach turned but he could see the justice in it. He knew this was more than his orders at work; Sebastian was enjoying this. It wasn't just his beastly demonic side taking over, either. Vincent could see the personal rage Sebastian was bestowing upon the man who he blamed for Ciel's suffering.

He blinked as blood splattered his cheek. Things had not gone as planned, that was for certain. He had made a deal with a devil for his wife to be able to bear a child in exchange for his soul. He contracted for one year, giving him time to be with Rachel through her pregnancy and meet their newborn child before he surrendered his soul to the devil who came to him in his most desperate moment in the form of a crow. Then Rachel's sister tearfully informed them she was too frail to survive childbirth if she was able to carry to term at all. Rachel had always been in poor health but Vincent had never thought the deal would be for nothing.

The last screams were dying away. Sebastian stood up, claws retracting into short, black fingernails. Nothing had gone as planned until a case given to him by the Queen crossed his path with that of Ciel. Rachel was so furious when he told her of the contract with Sebastian that he didn't think their marriage would last long enough to adopt their son, but when they met Ciel everything fell into place. Rachel had someone to give her love to after Vincent was gone, and the Queen's watchdog would be able to solve one last case. 

He had some time left but he saw no reason to linger. His goodbyes had been said, in person to Rachel and in a letter to his son. He crossed the room to stand before Sebastian. “I'm ready.”

 

Ciel had been waiting for hours, but Sebastian did not return. He had come looking for the demon in his chambers to find them empty. He now sat on the butler's bed, surrounded by his scent, wondering where he had gone. In his absence there was a deep sense of foreboding. Ciel couldn't explain why but he felt something was terribly wrong. 

He picked up the book of poetry and turned to the last thing Sebastian had read him. He pressed his hand to the page, imagining the butler's gloved fingers there instead. In the past week he had spent most of his nights sleeping there. He had discovered Sebastian did not require sleep, but something about Ciel's presence seemed to relax him. He always slept on his side. Every night he would fall asleep without realizing it and, though Ciel was sure Sebastian knew he was doing it, would allow Ciel to remove his gloves and brush his bangs out of his eyes. Ciel had expected him to be still as a corpse when he slept but Sebastian's chest rose and fell like anyone else, exhaling through slightly parted lips. He looked so human and vulnerable.

The Raven was bookmarked with a glossy black feather. Ciel twirled it between his fingers, thinking of the first night he had seen Sebastian's true form show through his mortal exterior. He wondered if he would still be a virgin if Sebastian had not fled. They had done no more than kiss while they were in Paris, presumably because Sebastian could read his feelings on the matter, knowing Ciel felt it would be disrespectful right now. He couldn't imagine partaking in those carnal pleasures while his parents were in danger and his fellow orphans were being buried.

He began to read though his mind was elsewhere. Sitting in Sebastian's bed, thinking of the demon, he couldn't deny he felt more than just attraction for him. It ran deeper than that. The tightness in his chest when they kissed was not only from desire. He stared at the feather, recalling a time not too long ago when he didn't think it was possible for him to ever trust someone enough to love them. Now he had his parents...and, if he could bring himself to admit it, he had Sebastian.

“Where are you?” he murmured before laying the feather down again.

He returned his attention to his book. He could recite The Raven from memory but he still began to read it, with the knot in his stomach constricting ever tighter as he neared the end. Something wasn't right. He had started feeling this way as soon as they arrived in Paris but he had never been more uncertain of what the night would bring. His only certainty was that his world would not be the same when dawn broke.

“Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door,” he said. “Quoth the raven 'Nevermore.'”

His heart grew heavier as he read the poem's ending. “And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming...” His hands began to tremble. In his mind he saw Sebastian and his parents, and their faces getting further and further away.

By the time he reached the verse's end, tears had welled in his eye. “And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor, shall be lifted – nevermore.”


	15. Chapter 15

Nightfall brought a crisp fall breeze, and the return of Sebastian. He stared up at the manor cast into mottled shadows by the city lights streaming through the surrounding trees. A candle burned in a single window. It was his own, and through the sheer curtain he could see a young man, little more than a child, asleep under his tailcoat as though it was a blanket. Sebastian smiled. He had left it behind to spare the fine craftsmanship being destroyed in the bloodbath, and he was pleased to see it had seen some use in his absence. It had been one day since he consumed Vincent Phantomhive. The end of their one year contract was near, and his time on Earth was now ticking away.

Having just fed, his powers were at their peak. In a quiet rustle of feathers he appeared next to his bed. Ciel slept soundly, fingers curled around the collar of his butler's coat. Sebastian stepped out of his shoes and let his jacket fall down his arms. He knelt on the bed over Ciel, loosening his tie. Not long ago he had felt he had all the time in the world to make the boy his own. He was a bit surprised he was still able to dwell on Earth but he supposed his year contract was still in affect since Vincent had willingly surrendered his soul early. He leaned down to breathe in Ciel's scent. Satan, it was delicious. 

His elongated fangs grazed the boy's pale throat, filling his mouth with his taste. “Master,” he gasped.

Ciel had certainly taken control of him. The young man had breathed life into him in a way he had not thought possible for centuries. Sebastian let his hands map out Ciel's body. He would take every crease and line back to Hell with him, keep it alive in his memory for as long as he was able. He would not soon forget this human boy who was the master of his heart.

His long fingers reached under Ciel's nightshirt and a midnight blue eye flew open. Ciel's first expression was one of relief followed closely by confusion, almost immediately replaced by wanton desire. He squirmed under Sebastian's hand as his blood rushed downward. Sebastian raised each hand to his mouth in turn to remove his gloves, revealing his fading contract seal. He pulled open Ciel's nightshirt and began to work him over in earnest.

“Sebastian,” Ciel moaned as the butler's hand stroked him, only to cry out when it was replaced with his tongue.

Sebastian's tongue was longer than a human's and he used it to his full capacity to pleasure his young lord. He sucked until he could taste the promise of Ciel's release leaking from the head of his cock. Ciel arched and writhed, making Sebastian glad he didn't possess a gag reflex, as the feeling of Ciel fucking his throat was nothing short of divine. He forced himself to pull away and move downward so the real fun could begin.

“What are you...Sebastian!” Ciel cried, trying to bring his thighs together.

Sebastian forced them back apart and continued to lap at the boy's entrance. He reached up to stretch him open, fighting the urge to take his virgin body unprepared when he felt that tightness around his fingers. Ciel's protests had died away to wordless sounds of pleasure. He held fast to Sebastian's hair as a second, then third finger was added. Sebastian continued until his control, a fine thread being pulled ever tighter, snapped. He claimed Ciel's mouth in a feral kiss.

Ciel was clumsy but eager as he opened Sebastian's pants. He was not as forgiving to Sebastian's shirt, which he ripped open with little care for the buttons he sent rolling across the floor. His hands slipped under it to clutch the demon's back as Sebastian prepared to enter him. His eye was colored a deep purple by the reflection of Sebastian's glowing red ones. He was flushed and vulnerable, and simply exquisite. 

“Why now?” he asked, bringing his knees up on either side of the butler.

Sebastian left his pants on the end the bed with two graceful movements of his legs. He laid his body over Ciel's, supporting his weight with one hand and raising the other to Ciel's cheek. His hand framed the whole side of the boy's face. He pressed a far more tender kiss than the last to Ciel's lips, hoping it would suffice as an answer. It seemed to. Ciel returned the kiss and only pulled away to moan in both pain and pleasure as Sebastian entered him.

As much as he wanted to sheath himself inside Ciel in one swift, punishing move, he forced himself to go slow, and only when Ciel nodded did he began to move his hips. His thrusts were slow and deep, and Ciel's passage was suffocatingly tight. It was bliss like Sebastian had never known.

“Oh, God,” Ciel gasped when Sebastian angled his hips to strike the bundle of nerves inside him.

Sebastian's throaty chuckle sounded more like a growl. “I assure you he'll never answer your calls now, darling.”

Ciel was already shaking. His feet slid up and down Sebastian's sides, nails digging into his back. Sebastian started to fuck him faster and harder, barely able to stave off his own climax when the boy cried his name. Ciel called it like a plea, like a prayer. His hands were pulled from Sebastian's back as the demon rose onto his knees and hooked Ciel's knees over his shoulders. Ciel clawed desperately at the sheets as the position let Sebastian hit his prostate over and over.

The vein throbbing in Ciel's neck became too much. Sebastian was careful to make only a shallow wound with his fangs but it was enough both to push Ciel over the edge and send a trickle of his sweet blood into Sebastian's mouth. He stroked Ciel through his orgasm while lapping the small bite clean. His thrusts faltered as he brought his hand to his mouth and the taste of Ciel's release mingled with that of his blood. That taste, in combination with the minute spasms clenching the boy's walls around his cock, was his undoing.

When they came down Ciel was barely staying awake. Sebastian felt him trembling in his arms. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, it was...wonderful.”

“To be your first was my greatest privilege.”

Ciel looked up at him. “Where were you?”

“London. You will depart from Paris tomorrow to return home.”

Ciel traced the fading lines of Sebastian's contract seal. He looked as though he wanted to be pleased but knew it would not be the touching homecoming he had imagined. He laced his fingers with Sebastian's, eyes fixed on the black nails resting against his hand. “What will I find when I return?”

“That the cult you were sold to two years ago has been destroyed, the lives of your fellow orphans as well as William Spears and Doctor Grell Sutcliff have been avenged.”

“They died, too?”

“I'm afraid so.”

There was a spell of silence. Ciel's spirits seemed to be falling further and further, and an unsuspected wave of guilt threatened to carry Sebastian away. He could only imagine the toll it would take on his young master when he learned the true extent of the tragedy that awaited him in London. He turned on his side with Ciel's back against his chest, holding him protectively. He could think of no better way to pass his remaining time in the human realm than with this tiny human in particular. 

“Sebastian, I was afraid you weren't coming back.” Ciel's voice was muffled against his pillow, and Sebastian was quite sure he was only half awake.

“I wouldn't dare leave you without saying goodbye.”

“I realized something, but I was beginning to think I wouldn't have the chance to say it.”

Sebastian felt his throat close with emotion. He didn't think mere words could affect him so, but the depth of his feelings for Ciel came with constant surprises. “And what was that?”

There was another long silence. Sebastian's arms encircled all of Ciel's body with ease, and he felt it growing lax as the silence continued. He'd thought Ciel was asleep when he finally said, “I...I just don't want you to leave. Ever.”

He knew it was as close to the words truly on Ciel's mind as he would give voice to. He let his head fall back onto the pillow and listened to Ciel's breathing even out as sleep claimed him. I would make you that promise, if only I could, he thought. He chose to stay awake that night. Until dawn he watched over Ciel even though he was no longer in danger, listened to his steady heartbeat and the singing of his soul. It was the sweetest lullaby but Sebastian could not sleep. He could not waste these final moments.

 

Ciel watched Paris recede outside the window of the carriage, gripping Sebastian's hand. He hardly saw the view from the window for he was too overtaken by memories. The relief of his captors being gone was bittersweet, as with that joy came the pain of loss. The orphanage staff had raised him. Mr. Spears had taught him to count and to write, as he felt his teaching abilities were superior to those in the education system. Dr. Sutcliff had taught him how to lace his boots, and basic first aid if he ever found himself in trouble. He supposed there was a grim poetry to their deaths. The doctor had always said they were destined to be together for eternity and now they would be.

Sebastian carved a path through the congested train station. Ciel would be glad of this, except it didn't matter since Sebastian had insisted on carrying him. He thought he would feel different after they made love but he just felt complete. It didn't seem any more wrong than loving a demon. Once he accepted that everything else seemed trivial.

Sebastian sat him on his feet when they reached the platform. He dropped to one knee and Ciel realized he wasn't wearing his gloves. The pentagram on his hand was but a shadow, his fingernails sharp despite him being out in public. 

“I must load your luggage. You should board the train.”

“What's the matter?” He wasn't fooled by Sebastian's carefree tone for a minute, he knew something was amiss down to his very bones.

Sebastian smiled but his eyes were pained. “I can honestly say nothing is the matter. I did not think any new experiences remained for someone as old as I, but my time with you has been just that.”

Ciel stepped forward and reached out. “You seem awfully grave for someone who isn't bothered.”

Sebastian took his hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed each finger in turn. “Go on now, I'll meet you on the train.”

“Alright.” 

He hesitated before turning away, only to be pulled back into Sebastian's arms. His eye widened in shock and then closed as Sebastian kissed him. He couldn't believe they were making this display in front of so many people but he couldn't resist the gentle demands of Sebastian's lips. He was breathless when Sebastian released him.

“I love you, Ciel.”

When he opened his eye Sebastian was gone, with only those words in his place. He looked around wildly as the last call was made for the train. “Sebastian!” he called, but the demon had vanished. Where he had stood remained a single black feather but when Ciel made to pick it up, it disappeared into equal nothingness. He boarded the train with the naive hope that the butler would make good on his word to meet him there. 

He wasn't surprised to find himself alone in his cabin when the train started moving. For the entirety of his journey he hoped, for hours he waited, but Sebastian never came.


	16. The Story of Grell the Reaper

He didn't know what he expected from the afterlife. Not Heaven, by any means. He had spent his life conflicted about whether or not he believed in life after death but if such a greeting awaited him, he had always anticipated a fiery one. His churchgoing parents had told him he was going to Hell when he confessed he hated the body he was given. Blasphemy, they called it. His mother had sworn it was a sin to be ungrateful for God's work and assured him he was exactly the way his Creator intended. When he insisted otherwise she began to yell, and he could still remember her grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him, demanding to know what was wrong with him. She had told him to go pray. 

Did Hell have such harsh lighting? He could tell even through his closed eyelids that this place was excessively bright. The surface under his back seemed too cold to be brimstone. His senses started returning to him one by one, each bringing a fresh wave of confusion. The last thing he remembered was the fire...and Will. He had collapsed when he was too weak to keep breathing. He had died, surely. He had even found peace in those last moments.

“About bloody time you started waking up.”

It took awhile to realize someone was talking to him. The familiar voice was harsh but somehow comforting. He opened his eyes to a white blur, spliced by an indistinguishable human figure. He expected his vision to clear but no matter how many times he blinked he couldn't see a thing. Really, what kind of afterlife was this? His vision hadn't been this bad when he was alive, for pities sake!

“Oh yeah I guess you can't see me. That's a shame, not many people get to wake up to someone this sexy.”

Something was pushed onto his nose and the world drew into focus. The blur materialized into a white ceiling with some kind of lights he had never seen before, and soon he could make out features of the person talking to him. The first thing he saw were knee high boots laced with purple ribbon, separated from a pair of shorts by a flash of pale skin. The shorts were very short.

“Thanks for hanging on to this for me,” said the person, and twirled happily.

He knew that purple coat, he knew… “Alois?”

“Good morning, Reaper Sutcliff!”

Grell sat up with considerable effort. A hundred pounds of cement seemed to be sitting on each of his limbs. He raked his hair out of his eyes and stared, dumbfounded, at the young blond before him. They were in what looked like an exam room, which explained the cold metal under his back. He looked around but his eyes were inexorably pulled back to Alois Trancy. He was too amazed to ask for clarification on what had just been said.

“Is this Hell?”

Alois snorted. “I wish I was tressed up being tortured by some fine piece of demon meat, but unfortunately this is just Dispatch.”

Grell searched his exhausted brain for some mention of Dispatch in the Bible but came up blank. He straightened the glasses that had been put on his face and stared blankly at Alois. The boy held what appeared to be a massive sickle across his shoulders. It had a handle of deep, metallic purple and ended in a curved blade with cruel grooves and serrations running along the side. The blade seemed to glow ice blue from within. The weapon, every bit as tall as Alois himself, looked like an upgraded version of the reaper's scythe of legend.

He was trying to process how someone he had pronounced dead was standing next to him. There had been no pulse, no signs of life, he looked back on every word of his studies but couldn't find anything to explain this. “You're alive.”

Alois spun the scythe and hit Grell in the side of the head with the handle, as if to knock sense into him but Grell was just seeing stars. “Come on prodigal doctor, you're awfully slow on the uptake.” At Grell's empty, dazed look, he said, “You're a reaper, stupid. Yes one of the guys in long black cloaks that carry these,” he spun his scythe again and Grell ducked, “and harvest the souls of humans when they die.”

“Why am I a reaper? If I'm alive I just want to go back to my life.”

“Oh you think you got the shit end of the deal? I went out of my way to die! I just wanted some bloody peace and quiet and I wake up getting told I've been reborn as a grim reaper. If you commit suicide you end up in this place to atone for your sins.”

Grell sat up cross legged and groaned. “Of course it's my sins. Well mother I hope you're happy wherever you are.”

He swung his legs off the side of the table and stood up. He would have fallen right back on his behind if not for Alois' arm around his waist to steady him. His legs were still weak, not surprising given that he had died and whatnot. He let himself lean on the small but strong boy as they left the exam room and ventured into a wide hallway. People of all sorts passed them, all wearing suits, all with electric green eyes and glasses. He half expected to look down and see his clothing transformed but he was wearing the same thing he died in. Oddly enough it was no longer covered in blood and soot. 

They reached what seemed to be a mess hall but it was distinctly not messy. Everything was black and white, and spotless. Grell looked around as Alois got them some food and led him to a table. He found that food tasted the same, if not a bit bland but he didn't think that was a matter of taste so much as Reaper Dispatch Chicken Noodle Soup leaving something to be desired. The more he ate, the hungrier he became. He drank the remaining broth and sat the bowl back down. 

Alois was destroying a plate of fish and chips. He looked the same as Grell remembered with the exception of his eyes being green instead of blue, and framed with dark purple cat eye glasses adorned with ice blue rhinestones. He stood out among the reapers more than he had at the orphanage. Grell smiled; as much as Alois seemed to hate his afterlife, he was sure the boy enjoyed being the center of attention even if it wasn't in a good way.

He brushed his hair out of his eyes and paused when he found a thin chain. He felt upward and closed his fingers around a tiny skull. “These are my glasses.”

“Sure are. I brought them over from the human world and had the spectacles department tweak them for you.”

“Are you the one…?”

“Who reaped you, yes.”

Grell absently tugged the chain on his glasses. “I thought all reapers committed suicide, I died in a fire.”

“You got tangled up in a shitty loophole. I guess you ended up here because you willingly chose to stay in the building to save that ugly wench with the big baps.”

Grell sighed. This was just too surreal. Since he had woken up, everything had stopped making sense. Grim reapers? The human realm? It was madness. The information he was receiving about reapers seemed familiar but he couldn't figure out why. There seemed to be someone locked away in his mind who was jumping up and down and shouting at him, but that was probably a delusion resulting from his headache. Alois' death scythe wasn't good for affectionate taps on the head.

“Come on, nobody's going to put you to work on your first day. I imagine you want a shower.” 

“We have showers?” Grell cried with delight.

Alois narrowed his eyes. “No, Grell, we clean ourselves with magical sparkly reaper dust.”

Still unsure this whole thing was real but happy nonetheless, Grell pulled Alois into a tight hug. “I missed your intolerable, vain, foul mouthed, arrogant self.”

“Don't lay it on too thick there,” Alois muttered, but he was nuzzling into Grell's arms like a kitten. For as long as Grell could remember he had loved affection from those he saw worthy of giving it to him. Grell had always seen the flamboyant, sassy child as a kindred spirit. If anything good could be said for this ordeal it would be that he was reunited with at least one person he loved.

They walked together from Dispatch. Grell was curious about the realm he would now call home, but he was occupied with a more inward struggle. All his memories before the fire were hazy. He could recall his early childhood and his final moments as a human but everything in between was a muddled mess. He had been a doctor, he worked at an orphanage, those memories had become clearer the longer he talked to Alois. He remembered grieving the child. He remembered Will, sort of. He could see in his mind's eye stubbornly mussed dark hair and a bored expression, and with that image came a warmth in his chest. Will had managed the orphanage. After that, he was drawing a blank.

It looked as though Alois had a couple roommates but they weren't home. It was a spacious flat for a young boy. Grell hung his rumpled vest over the arm of a chair and stepped out of his black and red boots. He was sure they had been ruined in the fire, but they looked good as new. If nothing else, being a reaper was going to do wonders for his wardrobe. 

He could have stayed in the shower for the rest of his afterlife. With the water beating down on his skin he could forget how insane this day had been, just like he had seemingly forgotten the rest of his human life. Human life...he paused in washing his hair. Dr. Grell Sutcliff was dead. That person went up in smoke with his mortal body. He ran his hands down his chest and flat stomach, the very same one he had died with. It was exactly the same but he knew his real body had to be a lump of charred flesh.

He fought the urge to retch at the thought of his corpse. It was all too much to process. He finished rinsing his hair of the flowery smelling stuff that could only belong to Alois and stepped out of the shower. In the full length mirror, a blurry red reaper stared back at him. He put his glasses back on and examined himself. Distantly he could see hands running down this body that did not belong to him, but he didn't know whose they were. 

“Why?” he whispered to the mirror. The longer those ethereal green eyes stared back, the angrier he became. “Why, why, WHY?” He struck the glass and shattered it out of its wooden frame. Pain seared down his arm, but his tears were not from physical discomfort as he sunk down the wall into the floor. 

“Grell!”

Alois ran into the room and looked at his arm. Seeming unfazed by the other man's nudity, he began picking glass out of his skin. Grell sniffed and pulled away. “Stop it, I'm supposed to be your doctor, remember?”

“You were and I used to stand by your door all the time watching you work. So let me help you, I learned from the best.”

His words brought on another body wracking sob. Grell tried to pull himself together but it was too much. He had spent over twenty years trying to figure out why he had been given the wrong body, being told he should be ashamed for feeling that way, and now he was trapped in the wretched thing for what? Eternity? That was the worst punishment of all for his sins, being condemned to spend both his lives a stranger to his own skin.

“I'm sorry,” he said when his tears finally dried.

“S'alright, I had me a good cry before I slit my wrists.” Alois cleaned the cuts on his arms and wrapped them with strips of what looked to be a white shirt.

Grell pulled his knees against his chest, covering the most indecent part of his naked body. “I would have helped you.”

“No one could have helped me then. I hated myself, I hated the body that had been defiled by old man Trancy. I didn't think anyone would ever love me. I understand how you feel, sort of. I decided since I had been reborn that I got a second chance with this body. It's clean, and mine.”

Grell smiled. Alois had possessed none of this optimism in his human life, even his cheerful personality had always been shadowed by his cynicism and unpredictable tantrums. He pulled a towel around himself and stood up. His hair, that was well past his waist when wet, was steadily making a puddle on the floor. He began to dry it with a second towel. 

He had calmed down by the time he cleaned up the mess he made of the bathroom and followed Alois into his bedroom. They sat across from each other on the bed and started a conversation that wouldn't end until the early hours of morning. He found out that time worked a bit differently in this realm, and for Alois it felt like he had been dead far longer than it did for Grell. That was why he already had his own scythe and spectacles, the mark of a fully qualified reaper. He told Grell about some of the other reapers and the amazing library full of cinematic records. Grell didn't know what a cinematic record was, which Alois explained as well.

Hours later he faced away from Alois as the boy braided his hair. He was struck with deja vu. “Why don't I remember you doing this before? My memories of you came back after I had been awake for awhile.”

“That's kind of how it works at first. Your memories will come back on their own with time but if you encounter someone from your past life, you'll regain your memories of them. Anyway Mr. Spears used to do this for you. I thought it would be nice.”

“It is...thank you.”

William Spears. He closed his eyes as the hands in his hair became those of a man from his past. He could see himself kissing a tall, handsome man on the cheek. There were older memories dancing just out of his reach that he couldn't quite grasp. He was getting the mounting impression Will had meant more to him than a mere supervisor. Every time a memory of him surfaced, his internal organs did somersaults. 

“I'm missing so much,” he said with a sigh.

Alois yawned and fell back against the pillows. “I'm sure you've got plenty of time to get it all back. Reapers do need sleep though so you should get some beauty rest. You can stay here with me, for tonight.”

Grell heard the plea inside the offer and situated himself next to the young reaper. Alois rolled over into his arms. “Goodnight, Doctor Grell.”

“Goodnight, Alois.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing too exciting going on here, but a necessary transitional chapter that I hope you enjoy anyway (: So much love to everyone reading and reviewing! Thank you!

The higher up you are, the harder you fall.

Ciel had heard that somewhere. He didn't know why it came to him now, but then, did he know anything? He wasn't even sure if he knew this was real. Everything from the time he left London to when he arrived home seemed to have been a dream. Maybe Sebastian would come striding from the kitchen with a platter of petit fours, having never made love to Ciel, having never called him by his given name for the first and last time in a congested train station. 

Maybe Vincent would still be alive.

He didn't know how long it had been since his tearful mother told him his father had died at the hands of the cult. It felt like hours but perhaps it had only been minutes. The only thing that seemed real to him now was his pain. He sat in his bedroom window looking out over the grounds but seeing a busy London street, locked in the memory of the first day he met the Phantomhives. When Rachel entered the room he saw the orphanage nurse in her place.

“Ciel?” Rachel said.

He turned toward her. He halfway expected Larieta to be standing there instead, but his fantasies were just that. “What?”

“You should come downstairs and eat. It's been almost two days since you had anything.”

Ciel stared at the glass of water on his bedstand that he had been nursing for...well, two days, he supposed. He hadn't realized it had been that long since he took dinner on the train. “I'm not hungry.”

“Ciel, darling, please. I can't lose you too.” She left the room but he heard her collapse in the hallway, sobbing. He knew this was hard for her too, probably harder than it was for him but there was a selfish part of him that could only focus on his own pain. Had he not earned that? Nearly everyone had abandoned him. William and the doctor were dead, his father was dead, and Sebastian took his virginity and disappeared. Goddamn demon. That one might hurt the most, for Sebastian had left of his own free will. At least he knew Vincent died protecting him.

“He died,” he murmured to the empty room. “They all died because of me.”

The sun was setting when he went downstairs to join his mother for dinner. Mey Rin pulled out his chair and did a poor job of concealing her sniffling and she passed the empty one at the head of the table. Rachel's eyes were red and puffy but she managed a smile. Ciel didn't think he could return it now or ever, but he reached across the table to take her hand. Tears returned to her eyes at this gesture and fell silently to her smiling lips. He admired her quiet strength. Showing her pain at a time like this was more than he could manage, but then, she was the widow of the Queen's watchdog. 

Dinner was well seasoned but slightly overcooked. He had become a scathing critic in his time with...no. He couldn't think about him right now. His fork scraping the plate was the only sound for awhile, both mother and son immersed in their grief yet somehow comforted by sharing it. The only indication Rachel gave of the true extent of her suffering was the iron clad grip she had on Ciel's hand. He didn't think this was something Vincent would have mentioned, so he respectfully held his silence. 

After their plates were cleared, Rachel said, “The mortician found a letter in Vincent's pocket addressed to you.”

“Oh?” Ciel tried to ignore the sickness to his stomach at the thought of someone preparing his father's corpse.

He followed her into his father's office. It had gone untouched since Vincent last occupied it, the only difference being the envelope on the desk with Ciel's name scrawled across the front in loopy script. He examined the sealed envelope. The writing on the front was messier than what he had seen from his father in the past, so he could assume Vincent was in an emotional state when he addressed it to his son. Ciel picked up the letter opener and cut through the wax Phantomhive seal.

Rachel left him alone to read it. He stared at the folded parchment, unsure he was ready to see his father's last words. There was no one to which he could turn to for comfort; his mother needed his support more than he needed hers, and the only person who he would lean on had left him. He took a deep breath and unfolded the document. For the second time in his life he was reminded he could truly depend on no one except himself. 

Unwilling to sit in Vincent's chair, he leaned on the desk and began to read.

 

My dearest Ciel,  
I'm sorry I could not tell you goodbye in person. I would love to read you one last story but I'm afraid our time together has reached its end. Hopefully I can give you peace of mind with the assurance that the cult you were sold to will never harm you, or anyone else, again. With Sebastian's aid I have brought them to the most archaic form of justice. I entreat you not to think less of me for spilling their blood rather than turning them over to the yard but they hurt someone I love, and by that I cannot abide.  
By the time you read this, both Sebastian and I will be gone. His contract to the Phantomhive house ends with my death. I hope he has taken good care of you in my absence, though I have little doubt of this. You are truly a remarkable young man to make that devilish fiend feel something...not that I approve of his inclinations toward you in the slightest.  
I can think of no one else of whom I would be prouder to have as my successor. Stay strong, my son. You are head of house Phantomhive now. Inside this envelope is my most valued possession which now belongs to you.  
Thank you for the beautiful experience you have given me, the incomparable honor of being my son. There is a rapping at my chamber door but I vow to love you, in this life and the next, forevermore.  
-V

Ciel sunk to the floor. His eye burned but he seemed not to be able to cry. He crushed the letter to his chest, gasping with dry sobs. Vincent had known he was going to die taking down the cult. He had willingly gone to his death out of love for his son. Sebastian's presence had somehow been entwined with Vincent's life, his servitude forged by more than an employment contract, it would seem. Ciel reached up to the desk and pulled the envelope down. Nestled in the bottom was something hard wrapped in the finest black velvet.

He opened it to find his father's – no, his – ring. It was too large for his finger and fell straight down to his knuckle. He closed his eye and leaned back against the desk, feeling tiny and alone. With this ring came a legacy, with a company for pity's sake. He pointed his finger down and listened to the ring clatter against the floor. 

“I didn't ask for this,” he told the office petulantly. At the room's expectant silence, he stood up and threw the letter opener against the wall. What did it matter, anyway? This was his office now, he could do anything he wanted with it. “I just wanted a damn family!” He cleared the desk with his walking stick, which briefly obscured his vision with papers flying into the air. He hurled a paperweight into the window. It didn't matter if it cracked, everything in this godforsaken house was broken. Their family was broken.

 

“You smell even more foul than usual. What were you doing up there?”

“More of a 'who' than a 'what,' actually.”

Claude pushed a stack of chips to the center of the stone table. That wasn't his real name but bugger if it wasn't easier to pronounce than his given one. He was still transitioning from his last human form, leaving him in the grotesque state of a human body with far too many legs. Sebastian really had to find someone else to play cards with.

“I've never understood carnal attraction to humans.”

Sebastian drew a card. “I'm sure there's plenty you don't understand.”

Claude opened his mouth to retort but was silenced by his own grimace as his human arms and legs began to sprout fine, black hairs. He narrowed all four of his eyes at Sebastian's laughter. By the time he met Sebastian's bet he had six pairs of them, all red and blinking in tandem. 

Sebastian leaned back against his wings. Usually returning to Hell after a satisfying meal was enjoyable. His true form was released from its human confines, he could play this dreadful card game with this far more insufferable demon to pass the time, the routine was pleasant in its familiarity if nothing else. None of these things had been true since his return. He had been pained to see his human form, the one Ciel cared for, disappearing. It was such a shallow, human thing to feel that he had terrorized the whole fourth circle in frustration.

“Your mind, what little you possess of one, is truly somewhere else,” Claude remarked as he raked chips toward himself, now sporting all eight of his eyes on a mostly human face.

“Hm...indeed.” 

He stood up and walked to the edge of the great black cliff they were sitting on. He didn't know when they had stopped hating each other enough to have weekly poker games, but he supposed it was better than the alternative. Claude spent his first decade in Hell snapping off the heels of Sebastian's boots. Sebastian stared down into the fire and smoke. Above the sound of the roaring flames, he heard screams.

A tingling in his hand drew his attention from the sight below. He raised his clawed hand and stared at it for a long while, sure that he was mistaken in what he saw. Claude had come up beside him and raised what remained of his eyebrows. 

“What did you get yourself into?”

“I don't think I know. My contract is completed, I consumed his soul.”

In spite of this, the all but nonexistent mark on the back of his hand was darkening. His contract seal was coming back.

 

Ciel was left alone for a long time to rage. By the time someone knocked on the door, he had dissolved into manic laughter. Through his cackling he told his visitor to come in. Mey Rin stood timidly in the doorway, and though her eyes were obscured by her thick glasses he knew she was staring at the wrecked state of the room. She lowered herself into a shaky bow. 

“I came to see if you would like some tea, m'lord.”

He folded his hands on the desk from his seat in Vincent's chair. His laughter died away behind an immediate wall of composure. This abrupt change seemed to make her even more nervous, which was alright. She needed to treat him with the same reverence as she did Vincent, as he was head of the house now. He stroked the thumb that now held his ring. “No. Leave me.”

He hadn't been able to stomach tea since Paris. It brought back too many memories. He had come to associate the steamy aroma of tea with Sebastian, and he couldn't inhale it without recalling long nights and soft kisses that gave voice to their unspoken feelings. He twisted his ring as he stared down at the letter from his father. Alone once more, he allowed himself a final moment to submerge himself in his grief. 

“I'm not ready to be you,” he said.

The letter offered him neither comfort nor guidance. It had given all the enlightenment it could. After all, it was merely a piece of paper, not some otherwordly bond that connected him to his father. It was just an echo of his voice. He folded it and tucked it into his breast pocket. 

He turned to stare out the window. In its reflection he saw the weariness in his eye and quickly corrected it. He no longer had the luxury of such childish things as self pity. Since reading his father's letter, he had been wrapping his mind around his new responsibilities, his anger at Vincent for leaving him, but as he met his eye in the clear glass he believed that process may have reached its end. He could no longer afford to be an orphan grieving for the second father to abandon him, or the boy who fell in love with a demon and missed him terribly. Those things only had a place in his past now.

“I am not that child any longer,” he intoned to his reflection. “I am Ciel...Earl Phantomhive.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Little+Fausto's+Lullaby for telling me the song Faded by Alan Walker reminded them of my story. I was listening to the "Restrung" version and the mood of the song totally flowed with this chapter. Music is a huge part of my writing so I take it as a big compliment when someone thinks of something I have written while listening to music (:  
> And of course, shoutouts for everyone reading, reviewing, and leaving kudos! Your support means the world :D

“Just one, my lord, give me just one joke!”

“I will do no such thing.”

“I guess you're getting your information somewhere else, then.”

Ciel huffed. His father must have had both an excellent sense of humor and patience to deal with this old fool. He stood across from Undertaker, trying and failing to get the information he needed for his first case as the Queen's guard dog. He could not fail his first mission! This was preposterous, his family's reputation scared the daylights out of London but this maniac was just giggling as if his anger was amusing.

He shoved the handle of his cane under the mortician's chin threateningly. “You listen to me, old-”

His well prepared threat was cut short by an impossibly strong hand knocking him off his feet. Undertaker's giggles turned to deep laughter as Ciel landed on a coffin. He fell back onto his desk, clutching his sides. Ciel sat up, dusty, sore, and furious. “You would dare lay a hand on the Earl Phantomhive?”

“You're so cute!” Undertaker said, still laughing. “Listen here, ya little brat. That name doesn't make you some kinda God, trust me I'd know about it. I respected your father because respect is earned, see, so don't expect to come struttin' in here with that smug look on your face and me to kiss your boots. Now get out.”

Ciel made to continue the argument, but Undertaker started to get up and he thought better of it; the old man was stronger than he looked. He marched out with as much dignity as possible (read: none) and stood on the sidewalk. The man's words had cut deeper than he expected. How was he supposed to know any of that? He just got dropped into all this mess with no one to mentor him! His mother was trying to stay strong but she was still half mad with grief, he could hardly seek her advice. He turned down a side alley to clear his head before he went back into the Undertaker's shop with a different attitude.

“Aww is wittle Ciel Phantomhive saaaaad?” drawled a high voice.

He turned to see the entrance of the alley blocked by a boy no older than him and not much taller, holding a supernatural looking weapon across his shoulders. Ciel reached back to rest a cautionary hand on his gun. The revolver had been in the drawer of Vincent's desk, and though he hadn't used it, he had examined it and felt confident he could hit this mad boy. The voice rung a bell in the back of his mind but he spared little thought for it. He was more concerned with the massive, curved blade glinting in the afternoon light that filtered into the alley. It was a shady side of town so Ciel doubted anyone would stumble across them for quite some time.

“I wouldn't come any closer, vagrant.”

Childish laughter echoed off the brick walls. As the boy stepped forward Ciel saw purple laced boots and shorts just a couple inches too short to be decent. That bell was ringing louder now but he had to focus on the matter at hand. He drew his gun and grasped it with both hands. A gust of wind swept through the alley, sending leaves and debris around their feet, and whipped a purple coat around a blond haired boy who had just stepped into the light.

He almost lowered the gun instinctively, then raised it again. “No...you're dead.”

“I was, yeah. It wasn't doing it for me.”

“Who are you?”

The space between them vanished and a warm mouth came to his ear. “Who do I look like, sweet Ciel?”

The worst kind of shiver went through him as a tongue darted out to lick the shell of his ear. It had happened before, at the orphanage, and he had struck the boy who dared to touch him. He thought back to a seductive smile and eyes the color of fresh rainwater. “Alois.”

“I do love it when you say my name.” Alois twirled, his blade missing Ciel's face by inches. 

“Get away from me.”

Alois flipped his hair back from green eyes, proving Ciel's theory that whatever he was now, it wasn't human. He began firing the revolver, taking a step back with each shot. Alois' blade was in his hands in a movement too fast for his eye to track. He brandished it with terrifying grace, deflecting each bullet with ease. He once more closed the distance between them and knocked the gun out of Ciel's hands with a final spin of his scythe. Then Ciel, for the second time that day, was hurtling toward the ground. This time there was someone on top of him.

“Are you done? I'm not here to hurt you...unless you're into that kind of thing,” Alois said from where he lay atop Ciel, pinning his hands to the filthy ground as the young Earl struggled against him. His smile widened the longer Ciel fought back. He flicked his tongue against the throbbing pulse point in Ciel's exposed neck.

“Stop licking me you freak!” Ciel pushed against him and Alois allowed himself to be dislodged. He stood up and crossed his arms, glaring at Ciel. His moods were as unpredictable as ever, then.

“You never did want to play with me,” he pouted.

Ciel stood up and brushed himself off. “If you're not here to hurt me, what are you here for? And what are you, for that matter?”

“So many questions, you really don't know anything.” Alois smirked, seeming pleased with the dig. He tossed his hair and said, “I'm a grim reaper, obviously. See? I have a death scythe.”

“Do excuse me, my tutor only touched on the educational material of how to identify a grim reaper in five easy steps.”

Ignoring Ciel's quip, he carried on, “I harvest human souls and I also investigate when there seems to be something funny going on with them.”

“That's lovely. You enjoy that.”

He tried to shoulder past Alois but was blocked by that damn scythe and pushed back into the place he had just been standing. Alois knocked him back a step with an angry jab of his weapon. “You're awfully cocky for someone carrying around a fragment of a human soul. The reapers don't approve.”

“Carrying around what?”

“Oh, you really don't know?” Alois blinked, forgetting to look smug for a minute as his face betrayed true surprise. 

Ciel ground his teeth together. “Explain.”

Alois hefted his scythe back onto his shoulders, his anger fading faster than it had appeared. “It was easy enough to figure out why we couldn't harvest Vincent Phantomhive's soul once we found the pentagram on his chest. You can't reap a soul that's been eaten, but the ledger had his soul in two places.”

Eaten...ledger...Ciel wanted clarification, but it wasn't worth hearing this prat gloat. He tried not to look as confused as he felt. “So where was the other place and how does a human soul end up in two places anyway?”

“I can answer the first question, the second one, nobody is quite sure of. We haven't really seen this happen before.”

“So where's the rest of his soul?”

Alois took his hand before he could resist. He lifted it almost to his face and stared at it through his oversized glasses. Ciel tried to yank it back but he was as formidable against Alois as a kitten against a lion. Alois ran his finger down Ciel's thumb, down to his ring. He stared at the large blue stone.

“It would seem it's right here.”

))))((((

“You were the shadow to my light  
Did you feel us?  
Another star, you fade away  
Afraid our aim is out of sight  
Wanna see us, alight.”

))))((((

Sebastian opened his eyes to a scathing light. He raised a hand to his face, unsure why it bothered him so. He could stare into hellfire (he had been born of it, after all), he didn't know why it was hurting his eyes now. He sat up and blinked a few times to clear away the retina burn. The weather was oddly moderate for Hell. Furthermore, how had he fallen asleep? He only slept from time to time when he was on Earth to pass the time. He didn't think he had slept once in his centuries in Hell.

He looked back up and realized what he had seen was not hellfire, but the sun. Hell didn't have a sun. Slowly, two plus two began to equal four. If Hell didn't have a sun and there was a sun up there...he wasn't in Hell. Okay, very good. He had that whole debacle sorted out.

Wind swept around him, carrying the scent of sunlight, humans, and pollution. He turned in a circle to observe his surroundings. There was a view of the city but the valley seemed to be quite a few miles away from it. He had awoken on a field of tall grass tainted only by the scorch mark that was about six feet long where he had arrived. 

“The human world,” he said, hardly believing it.

He couldn't remember how he got there, or why. He started to make his way across the valley when he recalled the strange occurrence in Hell. His contract seal was back which would explain his return to Earth, now if only the return of his seal could be so easily explained. What kind of demon had a contract but no master? 

His leisurely progress across the meadow was halted by a jolt to every one of his senses. It was panic and clarity all at once, a feeling that told him exactly where he needed to be. He broke into a sprint, guided by the pull of a soul he knew and longed for all too much. Ciel was in danger. No human eye could have detected him as he crossed the distance into the desolate part of the city where he sensed the young lord's presence. The closer he got, the more he could feel Ciel's racing heart as though it beat in his own chest, hear the adrenaline pumping into his veins.

He leapt from a rooftop to the alley below. There, he found Ciel being backed down the alley by a boy with what could only be a death scythe. He seemed to be aiming for Ciel's hand. Ciel backed into the corner, trying to fire his gun only to find it empty. He tucked his hand behind himself and held his other arm defensively across his face. The scythe grazed his forearm, ripping his coat and leaving the faintest scratch to slowly weep blood. Sebastian snarled at the sight.

He landed between them in time to shield Ciel from what might have been a fatal swing of the blade. The small boy's eyes widened as his scythe buried itself in Sebastian's shoulder and splattered them both with blood. He heard Ciel cry his name and wanted to turn to him, to take him away, but he was hindered at the moment.

“I don't think I've seen one of your kind openly wandering this realm,” he said.

The small reaper twisted the handle of his scythe and sent a fresh stream of blood down Sebastian's body. “Likewise, demon.”

“You seem familiar, if I might beg the question of your name.”

Ciel spoke up from behind him. “Alois Trancy, you stood next to me when he was buried.”

“That explains how you became a reaper, though I offer my compliments on how strong you've become already.” Alois smirked at this, but the smile fell from his face as Sebastian grabbed the blade and pulled it from his shoulder. “But not strong enough, I'm afraid.”

Alois flipped backward when Sebastian moved to seize him. He was small and agile, unable to land a blow on Sebastian but avoiding harm himself. Sebastian fought through the searing pain in his left shoulder with Ciel's voice resonating in his mind. He had awoken in the same form he'd had when he left the human realm, something he was pleased to learn when several silver table knives slid into each hand. He pursued the boy in circles until the reaper started exhausting himself.

Once Alois grew winded, it was an easy fight. Reapers were formidable adversaries even for a demon but this one had very little experience fighting. Sebastian lacerated Alois' hand in a clean swipe and caught the scythe as soon as the reaper's grim loosened in reflex to the pain. He hefted it up and gave the most polite smile he could muster. 

“May you have a peaceful afterlife, Mr. Trancy. Rest assured you won't be coming back from this.”

He swung down only to be stopped by a solid piece of metal. The obstruction seemed to be whirring like some kind of machine. Alois had closed his eyes in anticipation of the blow but now he opened one, then both of them when he realized he was alive. Sebastian's eyes traveled the length of the chainsaw to its owner.

“Get out of here, Alois,” Grell said.

“But-”

“Go you dumb brat!”

Alois darted under Sebastian's arm and was gone in the blink of an eye. In his place, with a death scythe of his own, was, “Grell Sutcliff. I guess no one stays dead these days, hm?”

“Lay one more finger on Alois and I'll show you just how dead someone can stay.”

The chainsaw and its owner vanished in a streak of red. His hands were also empty of the boy's death scythe. He raised a hand to his shoulder, which was healing slowly but surely. Did it have to be reapers? He had never encountered one on Earth but he had forgotten how much of a damn pain they were. Demons of his age and skill were rivaled by few things, but gods were one of those things.

“Sebastian.”

He turned to find Ciel approaching him. His lapis colored eyes were full of fear, anger, and relief. Sebastian reached out but the world had gone fuzzy. “Young master.”

Ciel's voice seemed to be coming from much further away when he said, “You said you would meet me on the train...what happened?”

“Well, I ate your dad, slept with you, and then I had to go back to Hell. The truth sounded rather bad. Oh dear...have you always had that many heads?” He never got the answer to his question since that was the moment he collapsed.

)))))(((((

“Where are you now?  
Was it all in my fantasy?  
Where are you now?  
Were you only imaginary?   
...  
Where are you now?  
Another dream  
The monster's running wild inside of me  
I'm faded...I'm faded  
So lost, I'm faded.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than usual, I hope nobody minds! I was going to split it into two but it flowed better as one, so here it is. Also a fun fact: This was originally intended to be a short story, so imagine my surprise to be writing chapter nineteen. Having so much support has been awesome and a big help so thank you all, and enjoy!

The driver helped him get Sebastian into the carriage, tactfully not asking about the demon's bloodstained attire. Luckily the wound had healed for the most part by the time Ciel went to fetch help. He spent the ride home in a sort of trance. He absently stroked Sebastian's hair where the demon's head was in his lap, replaying the past hour on loop. Alois and Grell were alive. Two of the people he had grieved were not only alive but some sort of death gods, and one had tried to cut his hand off. 

“Typical Trancy,” he muttered.

Processing this wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't the most normal part of his day thus far. Being attacked by his dead fellow orphan, who was saved by his dead kind-of-surrogate-parent, seemed small when considering the man passed out before him. Sebastian had disappeared and then reappeared to save him from that crazy slut with a scythe. He had been wounded and fallen unconscious, but not before he said he ate Ciel's father. Ciel took it to mean he had consumed Vincent's soul...which, for the icing on the cake, a piece of was riding around in Ciel's ring. 

Sebastian was stirring by the time they reached the manor. He sat up and rolled his fully healed shoulder. His hair was a disaster, his clothes were rumpled and he was fucking lovely. Damn him.

“Do forgive my unconsciousness, young lord.”

Ciel stared at him. The driver had opened the door, which he kicked Sebastian out of with one booted foot. The demon had only a moment to look surprised before he went backwards out of the carriage. He somehow landed on his feet, and had a single eyebrow raised as he extended a hand to Ciel.

“I'm fine.” He walked past the outstretched hands toward the stairs, not looking at those crimson eyes lest they melt his anger.

Once they were inside the house, Sebastian said, “I suppose you have every right to be perturbed, but in my defense your father made a contract with me knowing the terms.”

“I get that,” Ciel snarled, rounding on him. “I've come to terms with a lot more than you might expect since you've been back in home sweet Hell. What I don't get is how you could leave me on that damn train waiting for you, come back and all you have to say for yourself is 'forgive my unconsciousness.'”

“I was as surprised by my return to Earth as you, I would have given you a more appropriate greeting if you weren't being chased by a grim reaper.”

“If it was such a shock then just go back. I was alone when I found out my father was dead, I went to Dr. Sutcliff and Mr. Spears' funerals alone, I learned how to manage just fine without you so go back where you came from.”

Sebastian blinked and reached out to touch Ciel's face. “It wasn't my choice to leave you, I wanted nothing more than to remain by your side.”

Ciel smacked his hand away. “You knew my father was dead and you knew you weren't coming back, but you sent me back here without a care in the world. You should have told me the truth if you cared so damn much.”

He felt the slightest twinge of guilt at the stung look in Sebastian's eyes but it was drown out by the sound of footsteps pounding down the hallway. They exchanged a final tense look before the foyer was filled with cries of, “Mister Sebastian!”

Ciel walked away and left the demon in the hands of the tearfully happy servants. He smirked, wondering how Sebastian was going to explain his disappearance to them. They weren't as gullible as they appeared. He shut himself in his office and leaned back against the door. Out from under that penetrating stare, he let his impassive facade slip. It was exhausting to maintain when all he wanted was to fall into his butler's arms and scream and cry away the pain he had locked up since Vincent died. However, such a luxury wasn't an option for him. He had to lead as his father had done before him.

He sat on the floor and stared down at his ring. Perhaps it wasn't mere sentiment, feeling that his father was still with him. He thought of the furious swipes of Alois' scythe. Nothing had changed, then, if he was still channeling his pain into anger and taking it out on the nearest target. He supposed the reaper had a reason to be upset with him since even the boy's death had not made him any kinder towards Alois, but he just couldn't trust these supernatural creatures. He didn't even trust humans.

A soft knock on the door snapped him out of his reverie. The visitor did not speak, only waited, which told Ciel exactly who it was. He raised his hand to the knob but did not turn it. His knuckles went white as he struggled with indecision. All he would do is end up yelling again, and get that much more frustrated with Sebastian's unfazed attitude like he couldn't possibly lower himself into understanding Ciel's bland, human emotions. Ciel let his hand fall away. He couldn't start depending on someone again just to have them snatched away. 

He heard retreating footsteps and rapidly blinked away the tears rising unbidden to his eye. “Good,” he grumbled, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Walk away, that's what you're good at, isn't it?”

 

“You're a wreck.”

“Oh excuse me, I didn't have time to fix my hair before the fucking demon tried to kill me.”

Grell arched an eyebrow and sat back from combing Alois' hair. “I'm not your enemy, there's no need to get sassy with me.”

“Whatever.”

He whacked Alois with the comb and dropped it back on the boy's nightstand. They sat across from each other on the large, plush bed, finally off work for the day. Alois had been in a foul mood since Ciel got away. Grell wasn't feeling much better; the kid had always been a brat, but he had wanted to go take that broken child into his arms, the twice orphaned young man who had just had the world dropped onto his shoulders. His priority had been Alois, though. 

“I tried to tell you not to take a case concerning someone you knew.”

Alois crossed his arms and readjusted himself against the headboard. “Since when are you an expert?”

“I may not be one on reapers but on unrequited love, I most certainly am.”

“Love? He can bend down and kiss my ass! I hate him.”

“You only hate him because he doesn't want you.”

“Yeah, he can start a club with everyone else who doesn't.”

Grell rose onto his knees and took Alois' face in his hands. Tears had started to stream down his porcelain cheeks, which Grell wiped away with his thumbs. “I may not remember all of my human life yet, but I know I've got plenty of experience with how you're feeling. You have to love yourself, first and foremost. Then someone else's love is just a nice bonus.” He was not the authority on loving yourself by any means, but Alois seemed convinced.

“Yeah...who was the first person to break your heart?”

“I don't remember. I don't think there was just one person, though. Sometimes I get these hazy flashbacks that make me think I was in love more than once. I had one of them today when we were tracking Ciel.”

“Ugh don't tell me that brat was one of them.”

Grell grimaced. “He's only a child, that's appalling. He couldn't possibly handle me. No, when we passed that dingy shop with all the coffins, I got sucked into a memory. I fell asleep in front of that very shop and I was inside when I woke up.”

“Soooo you got raped?”

“I hope not, but I couldn't remember anything after that. I just knew that place was familiar and warm, like an old friend.”

Alois chewed on his fingernail and spit out a piece of chipped nail polish. “Why don't you go in there? It will clear up those memories.”

“I probably should. Who knows, maybe our knights in shining armor will come popping out of coffins.”

“I would bang a vampire in a second.”

“Tall and fair, with flowing dark locks,” Grell said, falling back onto the bed with his arms spread wide. “A vampire can make a meal of me any day.”

He had an armful of teenager as soon as he laid down. He let Alois snuggle against him, worrying not for the first time about the attention starved boy. Alois wasn't stable but this dimension didn't seem to offer counseling. He didn't know if he would suggest it, anyway. He seemed to be the only person Alois trusted and implying the child needed help might make Alois feel like he was turning against him. There was never any telling what would set him off.

He thought back to the shop called Undertaker's. Something important had happened there, and when he got off work tomorrow, he was going to go find out what.

 

Ciel awoke with a start. He found himself face down on a stack of papers he was supposed to be reading, and a clock telling him it was after midnight. He sat up and rubbed his eye. How had Vincent made this look so easy? He was about to turn to the next page when he realized what had woke him up. There was a steaming cup of tea on a matching saucer right next to his paperwork. It carried the aroma of chamomile and a touch of vanilla. It was one he had become fond of in Paris, leaving no question to who left it there.

He began to sip the tea as he read the contract for a store who wanted exclusive rights to release the new Funtom collection before anyone else. They were offering a handsome price. He reached the end and placed it in the growing stack of finished work. Unfortunately, the unfinished stack was still much higher. He yawned, only then remembering that this was the tea Sebastian had made him in Paris to help him sleep.

The relaxation spreading through his body finally won out. He made sure his papers were in neat stacks before retiring to his room. There, he found the covers turned down just so, and warm to the touch. They seemed to have been held in front of the fireplace for awhile. He dressed in the nightshirt laid across the foot of his bed and crawled in. Restlessness came to disturb the sleepy contentment he had found in his tea. He ran his hand over the cooling blankets. Damn it, why did he have to make this so hard?

Cursing Sebastian under his breath, he kicked the blankets back off and pulled on his robe. He didn't need light to find his way down the dark halls to the servant's quarters. All the doors were shut except one at the very end. He peered inside, and knew from the spotless, untouched state of the room who it had to belong to. He pushed the door open just far enough to slip into the room and close it behind him.

“Sebastian?”

Candles around the room began to light. Sebastian came into view, clad only in his black trousers. “My lord?”

Ciel looked away from the miles of flawless skin on display. He forgot why he came here or if he had a plan in the first place. Sebastian drew closer and he backed up. Noticing this, Sebastian took a step back again to give him his space. His eyes were a calm garnet but glowed faintly in the low light. Ciel hated himself for the flip flopping of his stomach.

“What you said in Paris, before you left….”

“Yes?”

“You knew you weren't coming back, why would you say that? Were you just messing with my head?”

Sebastian looked down at him, long bangs casting shadows on his face in the candlelight. “I found myself in a moment of human weakness, desiring for you to know how I felt.”

“You were serious.” It was a statement, but Sebastian seemed to hear the question.

“Completely. Against my very nature, I have fallen for you, my young lord.”

Ciel swallowed and tugged the sleeves of his robe. “You said my name, when you told me you...how you felt.”

“My contract had reached its end. Technically speaking, I was no longer your butler. I indulged myself in the taste of your true name on my lips. Do forgive me.”

Sebastian stepped closer, and Ciel let him, though he kept his arms folded. He knew he was on the edge of a cliff from which he could have a long, dangerous fall. He had felt that way from the moment the devil of a butler opened his carriage door to welcome him to his new home. Sebastian was dangerous to everyone around him and to Ciel's very soul. He had found a place there, and that was terrifying.

“You left me like everyone else,” he whispered, fearing the emotion would be heard in his voice if he spoke any louder.

“I'm sorry.” They were close enough now for him to feel the heat of Sebastian's body. “I stayed as long as I could.”

Ciel met his gaze and his submission must have been written plainly on his face, for hope came to Sebastian's eyes. He detested not being able to stay angry at the demon. The last of his barriers came crashing down and he let his longing take over. He walked forward until his hands hit Sebastian's chest and the demon began walking backward compliantly. He knew Sebastian was just letting him do it; Ciel couldn't have budged him if he didn't want him to.

Sebastian sat on the bed when it hit the back of his legs. He hooked a single finger under the sash of Ciel's robe and pulled it loose. Ciel moved his arms to let it fall to the floor. Strong hands came up to clasp his waist, and he gave way to the urge that had been the most demanding since he entered the room. He expected it to be hungry and rough but every movement was measured and slow when he kissed Sebastian. Soon he was straddling the butler, his tongue exploring Sebastian's mouth.

Nimble fingers worked their way down the buttons of his nightshirt. He started to pull it off his shoulders but his hands ended up in Sebastian's hair when the demon's mouth went to his chest. Sebastian's hot, wet tongue traced his collarbone before diving between his lightly developed pectorals. He shuddered, gripping Sebastian's hair for dear life and putting his weight on the large hands on his back. His fingernails dug into the demon's scalp when that tongue flicked his nipple to hardness. His other one got the same treatment and by the time Sebastian was gently suckling them, he was shaking.

Sebastian stood up, supporting Ciel with one arm while he unfastened his pants and stepped out out of them, never breaking his mouth's hold. When he sat back on the bed it was nothing but bare flesh pressed together and the slight friction of Ciel's open nightshirt brushing his back. He took Sebastian in hand and stroked him slowly until he learned what felt the best. He settled into a rhythm of pumping him just beneath the head of his cock, palming the leaking slit.

Sebastian slid his fingers into his mouth for a minute before Ciel felt a single wet finger inside him. He gasped and rose further onto his knees to give Sebastian access. A second one was added, moving higher until Sebastian curled his finger against that spot that made him dizzy. He rocked his hips, having to stifle a moan every time Sebastian's fingers hit his hidden bundle of nerves. Sebastian's mouth went back to his chest and he couldn't help but cry out. Sebastian was merciless, using plenty of tongue on Ciel's nipples while finger fucking the daylights out of him.

He leaned forward, hips rocking back and cock brushing against Sebastian's hard stomach. There was an unmistakable heat building inside him. “Sebastian, if you don't stop...”

“I wouldn't dream of it.” He brought his free hand up to rub Ciel's other nipple between thumb and forefinger, still laving his tongue over the other.

Ciel trembled, trying to balance without the demon's hand to steady him. Even as he protested he held Sebastian's head against his chest and rode his long fingers. “If you don't stop, I'm going to, oh, oh God, Sebastian!”

His release painted the demon's chest as his orgasm shattered him. He panted, trying to get his breath with no success. Sebastian had not stopped, only removed his hand from Ciel's chest to slick himself up. Ciel could hardly move until the head of Sebastian's cock pressed against his entrance. He stifled another moan as he felt it slowly fill him. His walls still throbbed with his orgasm, making the demon moan in tandem with him. Sebastian hesitated, clearly concerned with hurting him, but Ciel took that out of his hands and started moving up and down on his shaft.

Sebastian locked his arms around Ciel's waist and kissed him. Their tongues tangled together as Ciel rode him in such a way that buried Sebastian slow and deep with each roll of his hips. His bangs clung to his damp face and he felt a bead of sweat travel down the back of his neck. The air between them was stifling and unbearably intimate. If they weren't kissing then their foreheads were pressed together, trading soft sounds of pleasure against the other's lips.

“I missed you,” he breathed into Sebastian's mouth.

Sebastian opened his eyes that had warmed from garnet to blood red. This sight was more comforting than it was disturbing, as Ciel had come to associate it with Sebastian letting his guard down with him. The demon stroked his spine as he matched the movement of his own hips to Ciel's. “And I you. Eternity had never felt so long until we were apart.”

Ciel rolled his eye. “You're so dramatic.”

Sebastian might have replied but it got lost in a deep growl as Ciel traded his steady pace for something harder and faster. He gave control to Ciel, holding his hips but not guiding them, just gripping them until there was a bruise for each of his fingers. Ciel didn't think he could handle coming again but he was almost fully erect again. Sebastian took care not to overwhelm the sensitive flesh and started stroking him with a light touch at first. In no time, Ciel wanted more. 

Ciel didn't slow down until there were shallow claw marks at the center of the bruises on his hips and Sebastian's face was contorted with pleasure. His mouth was open, revealing his fangs, his brow was furrowed slightly. Ciel could have gone blind in that moment and been all too happy for that to be the last thing he saw. Devil almighty, he was beautiful.

“Let go, I want to feel you,” he said quietly, cheeks burning with embarrassment at the request.

“Master,” Sebastian gasped, helpless but to comply.

Warmth spread through Ciel's most intimate space and down his inner thighs as Sebastian removed himself. They were both a sweating (in Ciel's case, that is), sticky, bedraggled mess. He shifted around to lay on the bed, expecting Sebastian to join him. Instead he felt long hair tickle his belly button and then a mouth wrapped around his arousal. He cried out with surprise and pleasure as Sebastian's mouth and tongue started doing things that had surely been what sent him to Hell in the first place. 

“I already...you don't have to do that.”

Sebastian looked at him with a raised brow, as if to ask if Ciel could possibly want him to stop, which Ciel answered by letting his head fall against the pillows in defeat. He didn't want to win anyway. Sebastian had pulled him back to the edge in mere minutes and if he did stop, Ciel would end up ordering him to keep going. He knew he couldn't resist this...oh, never mind, that feeling right there. He stroked Sebastian's silky hair, drinking in the obscene sight of his cock in the demon's mouth. 

His second orgasm didn't crash over him so much as wrap around him like an embrace. He shivered and twitched, feeling the pleasure spread from his center to the very tips of his fingers and toes. Sebastian gave a final flick of his tongue and released him. Ciel's eyes started feeling heavy again as the adrenaline ebbed and exhaustion returned to his mind and body. He turned his head to Sebastian, who was next to him laying on his side. Sebastian smiled and laid his arm across Ciel's waist.

“What are you looking at?” Ciel asked, a little shy now that it was all said and done.

Sebastian chuckled. “You act as though I haven't seen your naked body before.”

“It was dark.”

“You are adorable.”

“Shut up. That's an order.”

He shot Sebastian a glare to accompany his words but he still turned onto his side and edged further into the demon's arms. Sebastian's chin came to rest atop his head. He drew invisible patterns on the larger man's chest, biting down on the words threatening to escape his mouth. You're caught up in a moment, he reminded himself. He had only forgiven Sebastian a couple hours ago it was no time to be getting carried away. He moved slightly, only to feel the reminder between his legs that it was too late for not getting carried away.

Desperate to say anything except what was on his mind, he asked, “How did you faint earlier?”

“Well, I no longer had consciousness, which caused my body to fall to the ground. I find it a confusing process, as well.”

“I know how fainting works, thank you. I didn't think demons passed out.”

Sebastian hummed his agreement. “I had returned to Earth moments before I sensed you were in danger. My demonic essence had not yet fully fused with this body so I had a bit of residual human weakness.”

“Human weakness, is that how you describe everything you don't understand?” 

“I suppose. Human nature, after all, is likely the thing I understand least in this world.”

Ciel huffed. He was beginning to wonder if he knew anything about it, himself. He pondered just how messed up his life was as he fell asleep. Nearly everyone he had become close to was dead and he was cuddling with the spawn of Hell that ate his father's soul. Also, he still had to tell his mother that Sebastian was back. He would probably skip the part about him being in love with their butler.

Barely awake, he asked, “Will you have to leave again if this ring is taken or his soul fades from it?”

“I don't know, these are unique circumstances.”

He melted into Sebastian's hard, warm chest. His words were so drowsy and muffled at this point they probably couldn't have been deciphered by human ears. “If you find out you have to go back, tell me this time. I want the chance to say goodbye.”

“Yes, my lord.”


	20. Everybody's Got a Dark Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! Another long chapter, I have realized that unless I rush to the ending this story will be on the long side. I do not want to drag it out and I promise I'll do my best not to bore you guys but I do want to show the character development that leads to them having their more canonical personalities. Fear not, this development will still have plenty of shippy goodness along the way. Thank you so much for your continued support, I always love to read your reviews (:

The wind was cold, stinging Grell's face and whipping some of his air out of his braid. The weather in the shinigami realm always seemed colder than it was in the human world. He pulled his thin, horrifically unfashionable suit jacket around himself as tight as he could and ducked his head against the biting air. It seemed like a much longer walk than usual down the stairs of Dispatch when he was frozen to the bone.

"It's you."

He kept walking until he reached the bottom of the stairs and realized there was no one else around. He turned to find a tall man in the same black suit as him, about halfway up the stairs. Grell reached back to finger his braid, though he didn't know why. "Me?"

"I passed you in the hallway earlier, you seem familiar."

The man's voice rang out in his ears in a way that was almost painful. Grell watched him descend the stairs until they were face to face. "You'd remember me, darling, not everyone can catch a man's eye like I can."

"I'm not your..."

Vibrant green eyes the same as his own widened, and Grell couldn't breathe. The cold day became blisteringly hot. He felt himself going dizzy, choking on the smell of smoke and blood. His gloved hands became bare and stained with red. It was beautiful, that red, but also terrible. This was different than when he woke up and remembered Alois, and the memories he had slowly been getting back over his time as a reaper. This was painful.

"I know who you are," the man said.

Grell pressed his hands to his head, shaking it furiously as he backed away. "No, no, stop."

The clicking of dress shoes told him the man had closed the distance between them once more. "What's the matter with you? As I now recall, I could hardly rid myself of you when I tried my best. This seems highly uncharacteristic."

"Stop, it hurts."

Strong hands seized his shoulders. "No, you stop. Why don't you want to remember?"

Grell looked between his fingers at the tall man...William, wasn't it? The sight of him seemed to collapse a dam that let a flood of memories come pouring out. They had known each other for awhile in their human lives but there was something not right. These memories were missing something, someone. There had been someone else that made him feel this way but every time he reached for those memories, it was as if he had been stabbed. His head pounded the harder he tried to reach for them. Even when he didn't, he felt that pain every time his memories of William intersected with those of a faceless stranger. The two of them had something in common, this other man and William, if he could only figure out what.

"I can't," he said to himself, though William seemed to take this as an answer to his earlier question.

"I know you better than you know yourself. I can help you remember...I owe you that much." His surroundings had come back into focus, the assault on his mind having subsided, so Grell waited in silence for him to continue. "You consider yourself a woman."

Grell put a hand on his hip and sighed. "Anyone who passes me on the sidewalk can tell that much. I already knew that, thank you very much. And you can check yourself, mister, because I am a woman. I just have the wrong parts."

"Can anyone who passes you on the sidewalk tell you what color your eyes were when you were human?" William's voice was flat and business like, but in his own eyes Grell saw a silent plea.

Grell ducked his head against an especially strong gust of wind. "Okay then big boy, lay it on me."

"Most people would say you had green eyes, but they were actually hazel. They were more green when you were angry or excited which was all the time, so I could understand the common misconception about their color."

He could now remember vividly how he had sought William's affections and how often he was rejected. He'd never known the man paid this much attention to him. William's eyes had always been fixed to his paperwork, barely wasting a second glance on Grell.

William moved his hands down Grell's shoulders to his wrists, which he held gently as he pulled Grell a bit closer. "You could sing like an angel."

"I'm no angel, darling."

"Oh, I remember that quite well."

The faintest smile pulled at William's mouth, which Grell returned in full. He took William's hands as the final pieces came together. There was still a hazy figure out of his reach but he knew, now, what they shared. His love. It had been a destructive, toxic thing, but he had loved this man. He had given William his heart time and again, and gave it right back even when William refused it.

"So how did you die?" Grell asked, lacing his fingers with William's.

Before he could respond, a team of reapers from the retrieval division walked past, looking at them oddly and talking under their breath. Grell shot them a much dirtier look than they could match and smirked when they shut up. He turned back to see a bit of color in William's cheeks, a tic in his jaw. Then he realized William had retracted his hands and taken a step back.

"I have learned there is no place for emotion in our line of work. It is frowned upon to have such intimate contact amongst ourselves."

Grell laughed without humor. "I guess there was one last thing I forgot."

"What?"

"That you never change." He started backing away, and when Will did not reach for him under the watchful eyes of the reapers coming out of the building, he knew he was right. "It wasn't me that you hated, was it? It was yourself."

William pushed his glasses up his nose and averted his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I spent the first part of my life tortured by caring about what other people thought, until I realized that was no way to live. You never did figure that out, Will. It took us both dying for me to understand you. Eyes are the window to the soul, didn't you know that?"

"You're mad."

"There he is. There's the man who would rather act like you hated me than admit you were ashamed of loving me."

He left William in front of Dispatch. Will called his name, but did not follow him. Grell wanted to cry but it wasn't worth it. What was he losing, anyway? William was no different than the other people who treated him like a freak, he was just the one Grell had fallen in love with. Grell now remembered thinking he could change him, that William would warm up to him, but if death wasn't going to open Will's eyes then nothing would.

He waved his hand and opened a gateway to the human world before he could lose his resolve. Perhaps someone in this realm could help him out with the splitting headache he had. He wasn't good at opening gateways exactly where he wanted, and was even worse when he was ill so he had no idea where he was when he stepped into the human world. It was uncomfortably bright and there was a lot of voices.

"Madam, are you alright?" Grell turned around, and a doctor's cheeks turned bright pink. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Madam is fine."

The doctor was a vision in red from hair to lips to the blouse peaking out from under her coat. She was exquisite. "You look a bit pale, are you alright?" she repeated.

"I've got a killer headache, actually. Treating them myself was never a problem but-" See, now that I'm a grim reaper, human medicine doesn't work "-now they've gotten worse."

"I'm sure I have something for you. Come along, then."

Being in a hospital was comforting and sad at the same time. His new job was to harvest the souls of the dead rather than to keep people alive. He sat on the edge of an exam table and watched the woman unlock a cabinet. She was lovely but her eyes carried immense pain, making him wonder what tragedies would play out on her cinematic record one day. He would like to see it. She seemed like she had lived an interesting life.

"I don't believe I got your name," she said.

He jumped and his stomach flipped with guilt when he realized he had just been daydreaming about this kind woman's death. The end of human life had become something of a fascination to him, if not an unhealthy one. He accepted the remedy offered to him and thanked her for the glass of water she placed in his hands. Its refreshing taste was a pointed reminder that death gods still had to eat and drink.

"Grell. Yours?"

She took his hand gently enough to be ladylike, but with enough force to tell him she was no ordinary woman. Her touch was akin to an electric shock. As he raised it to his lips he could not shake the feeling this was no chance meeting, and that he had found a kindred spirit like no other.

"Angelina, but my friends call me Madam Red."

 

Ciel was awoken by sunlight in his face. He groaned and tried to pull his pillow over his head, but it was taken away before he had the chance. He cracked his eye open to glare at his butler. Sebastian stood over him, holding his pillow with an unapologetic smile.

"You must rise and-"

"Greet the day, yes, because I don't recall those instructions from the past ninety-six times you've woken me in the morning."

"You keep count? I'm flattered."

"In your dreams."

"You indeed lurk there, but only in my darkest, most lewd-"

"No!"

Sebastian stopped leaning closer and sighed. "Very well."

Ciel sat on the edge of the bed while Sebastian dressed him, knowing if he heard a detailed account of the kind of dreams his butler had concerning him, his clothes would miraculously wind up somewhere that wasn't his body. Sebastian was one hell of a sneaky bastard.

"I have prepared your schedule for the day."

Ciel raised his cup of tea to his lips. "Alright."

"Your music lesson is after breakfast, followed by a brief study in English literature. The rest of your day has been left open to allow you plenty of time to prepare for meeting your betrothed."

If Sebastian was vexed by having to dodge the mouthful of hot tea Ciel spit out, he didn't show it. "My who?"

"Betrothed, my lord. Pronounced bee like those that buzz about in the garden, and-ow, my lord."

Ciel did more damage to himself than anyone by slapping Sebastian, but at least he felt better inwardly. "I don't want one."

"You have never sounded more adorably like a child, young master."

"Don't patronize me! This is serious, I have enough to worry about without having a fiance."

Sebastian tied his shoes and stood up. His eyes had taken on a certain melancholy. "I humbly beg your pardon."

Ciel placed his empty tea cup on the tray. He spent a few minutes tracing the intricate pattern of thorned roses on the china. It shouldn't have come as such a surprise that he would be meeting her, he just hadn't given much thought to it. He had assessed every expectation of his new title save for that one. He was the Earl of an old, noble family, of course he would be married off. He grimaced and stood up. He felt like cattle being farmed off to the highest bidder.

He left the bedroom with Sebastian close behind him. When they reached the main hall, he caught Sebastian's cuff before he could depart to the kitchen. "Hey."

"My lord?"

"I don't know what has you so preoccupied, but I need your help today so get your head out of the clouds."

"Yes, my lord."

Growing more impatient with his butler's behavior, Ciel released his sleeve with a scowl. "What's the matter with you?" he called out as Sebastian began walking away.

Sebastian looked over his shoulder and spoke softly, as his words couldn't be heard by the rest of the staff, the words so quiet Ciel could barely hear them himself. "Forgive me if I lack enthusiasm for your marriage to someone else."

Ciel was left in the main hall with his foot firmly planted in his mouth. He hadn't thought once about how Sebastian felt about this, not as his butler but as his lover. He sighed and went to sit with his mother at the table in the dining hall. Having a fiance wouldn't truly change anything. It wasn't as if he could marry Sebastian (not that he would entertain such a thing, he was still a little sore about Sebastian eating his father's soul) but once he was made to marry his betrothed, he would have to consummate their union and have children with her one day.

"Good morning, dear," Rachel said.

"Good morning."

They didn't spend much time together anymore. She had never been the same since Vincent died, and she tried her best to mother Ciel but he didn't care for being doted on. She was always going off to one room or another with a feather duster or polish no matter how many times the servants said they would tend to the cleaning. Ciel told them to let her do as she wished, for tidying up the manor seemed to be the only thing that brought her any comfort now.

He also felt sympathy for her, not only because she was his mother and the only family he had left, but because he had not been in a much better state when he thought Sebastian was lost to him forever. Distraction from the pain was all he had sought. He twisted his ring and stared at the grain running down the oak table. He wouldn't marry Sebastian if such a thing was possible, definitely not.

He shut down that train of thought and didn't return to it for the rest of the day. Sebastian did not seem angry with him, but they didn't speak much. He would have begged for Sebastian's teasing and mockery rather than this deafening silence if he had not learned to hide his emotions behind a wall of stone. This was a situation to handle with logic, it wasn't a matter of the heart. Having a betrothed was business. He wouldn't have to get married for awhile anyway.

The early evening found Lady Elizabeth Midford entering the foyer like a lamb among so many wolves. Ciel was dressed in the finest clothes his tailor could offer, and approached her with minimal assistance from his cane. Sebastian took her coat and excused himself with a bow. She turned deep green eyes on Ciel and curtsied. In another life, Ciel could have found her beautiful.

"My lord."

Ciel cringed at her voice but did not show it. "My lady. Please, it's Ciel."

She giggled and blushed when he kissed her hand. Her mother waited behind her with a hard stare. Ciel greeted her with equal courtesy, and though Marchioness Midford did not warm as quickly as her daughter, her disapproval seemed to lesson by a fraction.

The servants were on their toes while they served dinner. Mey-Rin managed to pour their drinks without spilling or breaking everything, and Baldo had reluctantly agreed to Sebastian's order to not lay one finger on the meal. Their meat was garnished with fresh herbs Finnian had harvested that morning and simply melted on the tongue. Ciel would expect no less from his demon butler.

The Marchioness became solemn when she offered her condolences for Vincent. It was during this conversation that Ciel discovered Elizabeth was his cousin, but they were only just now meeting because she had been overseas with her family for some time. She asked him silly questions like what his favorite game had been as a child and what his favorite color was, but he gladly answered them in favor of participating in the conversation about his father. It was the single topic on which he still struggled to remain composed. He humored her with lies, as he had only played one game in his childhood, and he had no favorite color.

Over dessert Ciel charmed her as if he had eyes for no other, all while keeping it respectful and innocent under her mother's watchful eye. Elizabeth seemed to be floating on a cloud when Ciel said his goodbyes at her carriage. Even her mother had let a couple smiles slip throughout the evening. Sebastian stood next to him as they watched the carriage disappear down the winding road to Phantomhive Manor. The first flakes of winter snow had started to fall.

"If I didn't know any better, even I would be convinced you enjoyed Lady Elizabeth's company. Your skills of deception impress me."

Ciel smirked. "I learned from the best."

They looked at each other through the growing flurry of white. At one time he might have felt guilt for ensnaring the girl with such ease, but he could only muster slight pity. The Phantomhives were not known for their kindness and morality. They were guard dogs to the Queen, Aristocrats of Evil, and as such had pulled that naive girl into their world for their own needs as his family had done many others. She was merely a pawn on his board.

It was hard to imagine loving a pure spirit such as hers, when he had a devil at his side. Sebastian loved him for even the darkest parts of his soul. If anything, they seemed to be his favorite.

"This ring is a serious violation of whatever rules the reapers have in place. They won't quit until they destroy it, will they?" he asked.

Sebastian glanced down to the stone on his master's finger. "No, I don't believe they will."

"Then I suppose we'll have to destroy them first. I trust this is within your capabilities."

Sebastian's glowing eyes were the only thing Ciel could see in the heavy snow, but he could tell the butler was smiling. "Of course, my lord."

(((())))

"Will you stay, even if it hurts?

Even if I try to push you out will you return,

And remind me who I really am,

Please remind me who I really am

Everybody's got a dark side

Do you love me, can you love mine?"


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who isn't for GrellxUndertaker, feel free to skip this chapter. I'm sorry if anyone is upset for the story taking a turn from its original Grelliam roots but this just kind of happened and I feel like forced Grelliam wouldn't do them justice. I do love the couple, just maybe not for this story. As always thank you for the love you give this story, it means the world <3

The closer Grell came to the shop, the more vengefully his headache returned. He shifted from one foot to the other, hand on the door. There was something about this place that had been calling to him since he came back. It wasn't like he had anything better to do, the afterlife was boring and he could only pass so much time watching cinematic records and giving Alois manicures. He had visited with Madam Red a couple times since meeting her last week but she had a busy human life. He was also breaking a number of rules by fraternizing with her, not that he cared.

His life as a reaper was depressing and bland. His only source of entertainment was the occasional cinematic record of someone who had led an interesting life, but those seemed to be few and far between. He knocked on the door and waited a minute. No sound came from within.

“Hello again, doctor, or should I say reaper Sutcliff?”

Grell turned toward the distinct, smooth sound of Sebastian's voice. “Hello indeed, dear Bassy.”

The demon joined him in front of the shop, hands clasped behind his back and pulling his shirt taut across his body. Grell looked him up and down appreciatively with a playful growl. “So did you come all this way to see little old me?” He batted his long, fake eyelashes.

“You did an excellent job of taking care of my young master before he came under my care. I was unable to thank you for that while you were trying to hack me up with a chainsaw.”

Grell beamed at the compliment and tried (and failed) to look modest. “An affectionate swipe never hurt anyone.”

“What brings you to a place like this, shouldn't you be working?”

What was going on? This gorgeous Adonis of a man was making polite conversation with him. Grell dug in his heels to keep from spinning in excitement on the spot. Ha, take that, William! He ran his finger down Sebastian's arm with a feral smile slowly spreading across his face. “I had the day off.”

“Had it, or took it?” Sebastian arched an eyebrow (even that was sexy, damn him!) but looked more amused than anything.

“Perhaps took it is better phrasing, but I only had two reapings so it really doesn't matter. Besides there are far more enjoyable things we could talk about, all work and no play makes for veeeery dull conversation. And I don't like to be bored.”

“Hm.” Sebastian took one hand from behind his back to brace it on the door beside Grell's head. “I'm sure you did take it, you seem like one to take what you want.”

Grell was fairly sure there was smoke coming out of his ears. He thought he had heard something about reapers and demons not getting along since demons ate souls, but at that moment he couldn't have cared less. “You're dead right about that.”

“I never realized what a pleasant doctor my young lord had. Why don't we take this conversation somewhere a bit...warmer?”

His face was inches from Grell's now, his wine colored eyes going a tantalizing scarlet. Mesmerized by their deep red color, Grell nodded hard enough to knock his glasses askew. Sebastian smiled and reached for the red spectacles. He thought the demon was going to straighten them, but instead felt them being lifted over his head and the chain being slid out from under his hair.

“Oh, no, give those back,” he said, reaching in what was undoubtedly the wrong direction.

Soft lips moved against his ear. “Forgive me, my red reaper, but I can't have you getting feisty.”

He saw blurry streaks of silver between the demon's fingers that had been behind his back. The knives in his chest did not kill him but heavens did they hurt! He struggled against Sebastian, desperately trying to make his scythe materialize, to no avail. Sebastian apologized once more and twisted the four table knives that were in Grell's chest. His unfazed, casual tone was the last straw. Grell snarled and overpowered Sebastian's hands to take hold of the knives. He pulled them out, oddly fascinated by the trickle of blood that followed each one's departure from his body.

Sebastian lashed out with another handful of knives and there was a resonant clang as Grell met him halfway with the ones he had pulled from his chest. Grell ducked and rolled to the side to get away from the door he was cornered against. He lunged for Sebastian only to collide with a wall. Damn reaper's vision, even as a human he could have managed better than this. He shook off the pain and tried to orient himself again but there was already a row of knives protruding from his back.

“I like it rough as much as the next girl, but you're just not playing fair.”

“This coming from someone who has such little regard for the rules.”

Grell coughed straight blood as two knives entered his heart. He fell against the wall and slid downward as his knees refused to support him any longer. His eyesight told him Sebastian was quite far to his left, but he knew the demon was standing right over him. He clutched his chest, blood pumping out over his fingers. It was beautiful in its way. He had never seen a deeper shade of red. He smiled up at what appeared to him as an empty space, but he knew when he heard Sebastian gasp that he was spot on.

He curled his fingers around the handle of his chainsaw and it roared to life beside him. Legs trembling, he forced himself to his feet and raised his scythe. “Bassy, haven't you ever heard the expression? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

Warm blood sprayed his face as his chainsaw met its mark. Sebastian blocked his next strike with his absurdly strong tableware. Sparks flew from the silver as the rapidly revolving chain worked against it. Grell pressed forward, knowing he couldn't keep this up for long. He was strong for a fledgling reaper but he still wasn't cut out for this kind of fight yet, especially half blind. Sebastian must have known this because he went on the offensive twice as hard.

“My, it seems you rely too heavily on this sickle of yours.”

Grell was going to demand what he meant when he felt the vibrations running through the chainsaw come to a stop. Sebastian's leg was pouring blood but there was also a piece of his trousers wrapped around his death scythe, halting its movement. Grell began pulling at the obstruction frantically. He backed up, Sebastian following at a calm pace. The demon knew he had won.

Sebastian ripped the scythe out of his hands and the chains began spinning again. “A tricky fabric, isn't it?”

Grell covered his face as a spinning mass of silver came toward him. Come now, why did everyone always go for his face? He ducked his head and awaited the blow.

It never came.

Before he could register what was going on, there was an arm under his back and another under his knees. He put up a halfhearted fight with what was left of his strength. “Are you killing or kidnapping me, make up your mind!”

“Neither, my lady. I took care of your friend there.”

Nice to meetcha, my lady. “Undertaker.”

A door opened and he was carried into a room that his very heart recognized. He could smell biscuits baking in the next room paired with the earthy aroma of fresh cut wood. His headache returned full force to join the assortment of aches and pains throughout the rest of his body. He let his head loll against the black robed man's shoulder, moaning. The man chuckled.

“I don't want to hear you crying, I'm the one who thought you were dead.”

Trying to sort out the memories that had just returned to him hurt his head, so Grell pushed them away for the time being. “I guess you came out to see what the commotion was?”

“Oh no, I couldn't hear a thing from my coffin. I just came out to get the newspaper. Probably would have been awhile before anybody found ya, most folk don't come around this part of town this late in the evening.”

Grell winced as he was laid down on a hard surface. “Is this the same coffin? I know plenty of people must have died since I was in college.”

A scarred face obscured by silver hair came into focus as Undertaker put his glasses back on. Long fingernails brushed his cheek and he shivered. The present disappeared for a moment and was replaced by a memory of being in this same place, much longer ago, sitting up with one hand braced on the side of a coffin and the other around Undertaker's neck. He could see his own shoulder length hair clinging to the side of his face with sweat. Those overgrown nails left scrapes on his back as he moved atop Undertaker's lean but muscular body.

“Grell?”

He didn't know he was making sounds of pain until he snapped back to reality and found himself curled on his side, clutching his head. Undertaker stroked his hair in a familiar gesture but thinking back to their time together sent a fresh bout of agony through Grell's body. 

“I'm sorry. I'm the one who did this to you.”

“What?” Grell pulled himself into a sitting position, one hand pressed to the side of his head.

“You never should have remembered what I took from you. I never counted on you bein' a reaper. What your mind is going through, a human couldn't survive it.”

Grell huffed. “Lucky them.”

“Don't you dare say that, not after I just got you back.”

Grell snatched the man by the throat, satisfied by the feeling of his manicured fingernails digging into Undertaker's soft flesh. “My memories are still a hot mess, but I know I was right here with you until the end. You're the one who took what we had away.”

“You don't understand.” Undertaker did not fight back, letting his head fall forward against Grell's hand.

A bead of blood welled up on his pale neck and trickled down to his robe. Grell released him, eyes fixed on the wet, red trail. He tried to unscramble the mess in his head but the harder he tried, the less sense it made. The effort left him with no more than a throbbing in his temples and the knowledge that he had found the other man he'd loved, only to discover one more person who had broken his heart. Undertaker had taken every moment they'd spent in love and replaced it with a hollow friendship.

Venting his anger was the only relief he had found from the pain so far. He dug his nail into the small wound on Undertaker's neck and brought his face up to the other reaper's. “Then make me understand,” he said, heart racing at the warmth of blood on his finger.

The room spun and then his lips were claimed in a kiss that almost split his head with pain but he welcomed it with open arms; it only served to intensify the pleasure. He kissed Undertaker until his mouth felt bruised. At some point his suit jacket was left abandoned on the coffin and he ended up against a wall. He snarled and ripped Undertaker's robe down the middle to reveal the nearly translucent skin underneath. He kissed and nipped his way from Undertaker's neck to his chest, smearing them both with blood. Undertaker snatched his wrists and pinned them to the wall above his head.

“There you go,” Grell purred, all too happy to surrender.

“No.”

Grell frowned, some of the wind going out of his sails. “No, what?”

“Not like this. I won't hurt you, not even if it's what you want. I've hurt you enough.”

Before Undertaker released him and turned away, Grell glimpsed his eyes burning with both desire and shame. He rubbed his wrists, unsure how to react. The pain had been bliss for him. He watched Undertaker go into the next room to take up the biscuits but didn't follow. He could remember enough to know this wasn't the way they had been before, but of course it was going to be different, they were different. That was years ago. Grell was a grim reaper, he wasn't the little flower that he used to be. It wasn't the most ladylike thing, but he had to admit he had gone rough around the edges.

Undertaker returned with a plate of bone shaped biscuits. He held out the plate with a smile as if they hadn't been clawing at each other like a couple of animals less than five minutes ago. Grell tried not to stare at his still bare chest. It clearly wouldn't do him any good to get riled up, though it was already too late for that. He wanted Undertaker wrapped around him again more than he wanted air in his lungs.

He nibbled at the corner of a biscuit that tasted of butter and sugar. “I'm not the same person I was. I'm not even a person now.”

“S'alright.” Undertaker leaned against the wall next to him and bit his own biscuit in half. “Whatever you are, I guess I'll just love that too.”


	22. Chapter 22

A small hand on his face brought him back to the waking world. Sebastian opened his eyes to find Ciel's head on his chest and the boy's hand stroking the side of his face. A single lapis colored eye widened when he looked down at his young master. Ciel sat up and cleared his throat, pulling his hand away as if Sebastian's skin had burned it. Sebastian's brows knitted together as he realized he was laying in a bed. 

“I'm growing tired of replacing your clothes,” Ciel said.

Sebastian sat up on his elbows. “Perhaps you shouldn't tear them off quite so forcefully, then.”

Cheeks pink, Ciel said, “I am your master, I'll do what I please. Furthermore, I don't do any damage that can't be repaired with your needle and thread. I can't say the same for the reapers you crossed paths with today.”

Oh, yes. Reapers. He recalled a flash of chartreuse under long bangs, and the feeling that he was falling forever but never landing. It was what humans called unconsciousness. His confusion deepened. “I was unable to track Alois, as he is in his home realm, but I found Grell.”

“On a first name basis now, are we?”

“Don't be petulant. I was trying to kill him, to draw the rest of the reapers out so we could exterminate them. Apparently Undertaker didn't care for such a disturbance outside his shop.”

Ciel narrowed his eye. “What was Doctor Sutcliff doing there?”

“I don't know, I couldn't quite hear his explanation over the sound of his chainsaw.”

“Now who's being petulant?”

Sebastian smirked and sat up. He straightened the pin on his lapel and rolled his shoulders, giving off a series of pops and cracks. The centuries really were telling on him. “I apologize for my unconsciousness, again. It would seem being bound here by a mere fraction of a soul is allowing me only a tenuous connection to this world.”

“It would seem so. I'm not used to seeing you get hurt.”

“I am sorry for the inconvenience, young-oh, my.”

He cut himself off as his arms and lap were filled with a small, warm body. Ciel's arms locked around his neck, face resting just above Sebastian's crisp white collar. Sebastian was wondering if demons could dream as he returned the embrace. This wasn't like his young lord at all. He didn't think it was wise to mention it, however. Ciel would snap back into his shell like a tiny, indignant turtle.

“Stop scaring me, you don't even breathe when you sleep,” Ciel said to his butler's necktie.

Sebastian leaned back until Ciel had no choice but to speak to his face. “I promised I wouldn't leave you without a proper goodbye, did I not?”

“People break promises.”

“I am not exactly people.”

Ciel sighed and dropped his head back onto Sebastian's shoulder. “You're not invincible now, either.”

“There are no limits to how far I'll go to keep my promise to you, and not a force strong enough to make me break it.”

Ciel's arms tightened. “When you have recovered, go back after him.”

“You are quite sure you want me to kill someone you cared for?”

“Doctor Sutcliff is dead to me. Grell the reaper is my enemy, and I want you to eliminate him by any means necessary except sacrificing your own life. That's an order.”

“Yes, my lord.” The pentagram glowed through his ripped glove, giving him no choice but to obey Ciel's words. 

He sat in silence for awhile, more than content to hold his little lord until he wanted to move. At one point he thought Ciel had fallen asleep but when he looked down his eye was open and fixed blankly on the wall. Sebastian petted his smoke hued locks, wondering what was going through the boy's mind. He detested the weakness he'd had since returning to the human world. It inhibited his ability to protect Ciel and it was an especially big problem when he was hunting reapers. They were divine beings, and he was an equal match for them on his best day. They had the advantage if he was weakened plus they had strength in numbers.  
He pressed his lips to the top of Ciel's head. It was time to swallow his pride and ask for help. If it meant keeping his little lord safe, it was worth it.

 

The mist of early morning had not cleared the air when he reached the center of the woods outside Phantomhive manor. He twirled the knife in his hand and stared at the ground. If he had any other options, he would take them, but he was running out of time. The reapers had a duty to retrieve the ring and they would be more determined than ever if their efforts were being thwarted by a demon. He closed his hand around the blade and let his blood drip onto the dewy grass. As he spoke in his native tongue, the blood began to move of its own accord. He did not let the wound on his hand heal until a ring had formed on the ground and, inside it, an inverted pentagram.

Fine threads formed between each point of the pentagram. Black specks began to crawl from the ground, which Sebastian fought the urge to crush under his shoe as they drew closer on their multitude of legs. From the trees came more of them until the pentagram was nearly obscured by a mass of black arachnids. A shape began to take form at the center. It writhed and twisted, bones snapping into place and muscle forming with an unpleasantly wet sound. Sebastian stepped back as the half formed human stood up. The threads of the spider web connecting it to the pentagram broke and the spiders retreated into the ground. In their wake was a striking man in all black.

“Grown bored of this world already, have you?” drawled an all too familiar voice.

“I suppose I was in need of someone with a good poker face.”

Claude's lips twisted into a perverse imitation of a smile. He flicked his hand and cards fanned out between his fingers. “I'm flattered.”

“You were my only choice.”

A joker card flew toward him and stopped less than an inch from his eye. “Careful. I am no tame dog like you, Sebastian Michaelis.”

“That's precisely why you're here.”

Claude flicked his wrist and the joker returned to his hand, then disappeared with the other cards. He drew a pair of rimless glasses from his pocket and slid them on. “What's in it for me?”

“You aren't contracted, so it's open season for hunting here.”

“You know how bothersome grim reapers can be when we eat their precious souls. I prefer luring my prey to me, and making them surrender their soul willingly.” 

“Speaking of how bothersome grim reapers can be, that reminds me there is something I could use a hand with...”

Claude peered at the other demon over the top of his glasses. “Oh hell no, Sebastian.”

 

Ciel looked up when the door to his study opened. By the lack of knocking, he knew it was his butler before he entered the room. Sebastian placed his dessert on the table along with hot milk. Ciel watched the steam rise, forcing himself to remember the peaceful day was a mere facade for the war being waged outside the manor walls. There were demigods out there who wanted to take away not only his last tie to his father but also to Sebastian. He ran his thumb over the stone. Knowing there was a piece of Vincent in there, he had grown protective of it. 

“You should take a break, you'll strain your eye if you spend another hour looking for a pitfall in this contract.”

“I'm meeting with him tomorrow, I don't have such a luxury.”

Sebastian came to Ciel's side of the desk and took the contract out of his hands. “I shall look it over while you have your dessert.”

Falling prey to his one true weakness, Ciel pulled his walnut encrusted slice of pie toward him and began shoveling it in. When he was finished Sebastian returned his plate and empty cup to the rolling cart. Sebastian offered him more milk, which he refused. He watched the demon circle back around to his side of the desk with the contract. Sebastian was already on the last page of insufferably long thing. 

“How can you possibly read that fast?”

“I am sorry to keep you waiting, I wanted to read it a second time just to be safe.” Sebastian placed it on the desk. “All seems to be in order.”

Second time… “Right. Very well.”

“Now, let me get you cleaned up.”

Ciel turned to him with a questioning look to find him much closer than he expected. He gasped as Sebastian's tongue slowly licked a bit of cream from the corner of his mouth. His hands went to the back of the demon's head and turned it toward him for a kiss. Sitting in the chair with Sebastian bent down to him, he felt even smaller than usual. He slipped his tongue into the taller man's mouth and moaned at the sweet taste he found there. Sebastian lifted him up and he let himself be laid across the desk.

“Still hungry for more dessert, my young lord?”

Ciel pulled his hair and sat up to glare directly into his eyes. “You are not here to question what I want, you're here to give it to me.”

A sharp intake of breath sent both their heads snapping to the side. Ciel's hair practically stood on end as a figure emerged from the shadowy side of the study untouched by the candelabra. The tall man's lips were parted, and his suit seemed suspiciously tight in his nether regions. Ciel grabbed the letter opener next to him and scrambled to his feet.

“Who the hell are you and WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?”

Demonic eyes flashed with unbridled desire and the man bowed. “My name is Claude Faustus. I am here to aid in your protection.”

“Because he clearly needed protecting just now,” Sebastian said, brow arched.

“No, that doesn't seem to be what he needed. I believe I understand your fixation with this boy. I, too, would suffer on Earth if I got to ravage that beautiful body every night.”

“GET OUT!”

As soon as the door closed behind Claude (who looked less like a spider demon than a kicked puppy demon), Ciel whirled to face Sebastian, who already had an explanation prepared before any yelling could be directed at him. “He is a demon, as well. I would have disclosed that I asked for his assistance but I didn't think he would take up residence in the manor. Do forgive me.”

“You say that like I found him taking a nap in one of the guest rooms. That creep was watching us and then he started talking about ravaging me! What the hell kind of friends do you have?”

“Well, the Hellish kind.”

“Sebastian!”

Ciel was satisfied by the slight flinch his butler gave as he pointed his letter opener at him in warning. He felt violated just by that weirdo looking at him. There was no way he was keeping him around. He shouted as much to Sebastian, who waited patiently for him to finish before raising his hands in a gesture for peace. Ciel gave it to him, more to catch his breath than to give Sebastian what he wanted.

“Claude is unsettling, to say the least. I am not refuting that. However, the reapers are powerful, and they will be even stronger adversaries with their emotions involved. It pains me to admit it but I don't think I can defeat them alone in my current state.”

Ciel returned the letter opener to its place on his desk, huffing and muttering but largely placated. He couldn't find anything to argue with. The servants were humans, they weren't suitable defense against immortals. If Claude was the only one who could help Sebastian then he couldn't very well take that away. He turned back toward Sebastian.

“Keep your creepy friend on a leash. Next time I find him spying on us or me, I'll shoot his testicles into his throat.”

“Noted.” 

 

Brittle leaves crunched under Alois' boots as he trekked through the woods. He was on his guard after seeing what remained of a summoning ritual in a clearing. Demons were a real pain in the ass, especially lovestruck idiots like Sebastian. He sneered and whacked a limb out of his way with his scythe. He probably should have waited for Grell, but he hadn't seen him since his mentor skipped out on work the day before. Whatever.

He paused when he caught a scent that wasn't just wet grass and pine. He rested his scythe across his shoulders, looking around. Twilight had subsided into a dark night and the trees kept the moon from lighting his path. His eyesight was better than a human's, but he still couldn't determine what was assaulting his nose with a distinct sense of Not Right. A twig snapped nearby and he brought his scythe to bear.

“Come on, then, you coward,” he said to the moving shadow.

“You had best mind that pretty mouth.”

From behind a tree came a man too pale and too perfect to be anything besides a demon. He was shuffling a deck of cards, of all things. Alois laughed. “Or what?”

The demon took another step and what little light filtered through the leaves illuminated his gold eyes and sharp cheekbones. Goddamn, he was fine. Alois wavered slightly, though he kept his scythe in position. Was hate sex an acceptable form of self defense?

“Why don't you come closer and find out.”

Before he could deny or take the invitation, his scythe soared out of his hands. It hit the tree next to the demon, bound by some kind of shiny white thread. Alois raised his hands in what he hoped was a fighting stance. No one had taught him how to defend himself without his scythe. Claude flung his hand out and a dozen razors seemed to fly at Alois. He covered his face and hissed at the hot stinging on his arms. He caught a glimpse of a classically illustrated king on a white background. The asshole was doing this with playing cards? Seriously?

“I suggest you leave,” the demon said as the bloodied cards returned neatly to the deck in his hand.

“I suggest you eat me.”

The demon didn't smile but his eyes danced with amusement. He spread his arms, spinning cards around his fingers. “As you wish. Let's play.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so let me be the first to say I don't like Claude. I didn't initially like Alois either but I developed a soft spot for him by the end. Claude earned no such thing. However, I need him for the time being so bear with me. I don't know why my headcanon of him became a weird cross with X-Men's Gambit from Origins: Wolverine but it works so yeah. IDK.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is drawing to a close. I don't have the words to thank everyone who has supported the story, you guys are truly amazing :D

“Are you sure you should be dividing your attention right now, my lord?”

“I am duty bound to her Majesty, regardless of any personal affliction I may have.”

“Of course.”

Ciel took Sebastian's offered hand and climbed down from the carriage. A distant member of her Majesty's family had been murdered, and though the suspect was in custody, the Yard couldn't convince him to give up his motives. The Queen desired closure. He held Sebastian's hand longer than was strictly necessary, taking strength from the demon's strong grip. Sebastian's hand rested on his lower back as they walked inside which he took as more reassurance than anything. He was glad he wasn't the only one getting too familiar without realizing it. 

Arthur haggled them as always but he had learned that Vincent's son was no less of a force to be reckoned with than his father. He stepped back with a scowl and allowed Ciel past him. The hall they entered seemed to be one that saw little use, going by the creaking floorboards that had not been swept as recently as others in the building. Arthur unlocked the last door to the left, and Ciel turned toward the two taller men.

“I will be going in alone.”

Voice drowning Arthur's indignant sputtering, Sebastian said, “Do summon me the instant I'm needed.”

“Of course, what else would I do? You are my butler, after all.” Ciel strode into the room and relocked the door, knowing a trifling thing such as a lock would not keep Sebastian out. He paused for a moment when he saw the suspect. The boy couldn't have been any older than him, with a face framed by soft golden curls and cheeks that still lacked the definition of manhood. 

“Cole, yes?”

The boy didn't meet Ciel's eyes. “Yes.”

“You could speak up.”

“I can't, I'm tired.” The young man was pale and drawn, with dark circles that made hm look like he had been in custody far longer than one day.

Ciel huffed and came closer. He was here for answers, he wasn't going to strain to hear them. He crouched about a foot from the Cole boy. “I hear you had something of a school rivalry with Derrick Arden.”

“Where did you hear that?” The boy raised his head with a look of alarm.

“Let's just say I have a way of finding things out that other people don't.”

The expression of fear lingered for only a moment longer before it was overtaken with what could only be true insanity. Maurice Cole began to shake, rattling the chain that linked his hands behind the chair. “He wanted my position as prefect, he was trying to sabotage me!”

“Which justified stabbing him thirty-one times?”

Maurice tilted his head back to look at Ciel, curls falling away from his face. “Thirty-two.”

“You should have thought twice before you harmed someone her Majesty cared for. People guard the things they value...often with dogs.”

The chain rattled again and Ciel barely had time to dart out of the boy's reach. Maurice's restraints, which he had found his way out of at some point, fell to the floor. His cherubic face was twisted in a way more suitable to an avenging angel. “Of course I knew they were family, the whole bloody school did so they kissed his ass!”

Ciel opened his mouth to call for one of the two men outside to settle this mongrel down, but no sound came out. He struggled to breathe as the chain around his neck tightened. Maurice was latched firmly on to his back, enacting what could only be a premeditated escape as he choked the breath from Ciel's body. He was back there prattling about something, probably gloating or talking about how Derrick deserved what he got, but Ciel paid him no mind. He only heard background noise as he reached behind him into his waistband.

The door crashed into the floor and over it came Sebastian, eyes ablaze. A moment later his eyes weren't the only thing that were red. He stared at Ciel, blood dripping down his face. Ciel lowered his gun. He looked down at Maurice and the grotesque state of the side of his head. Ciel had pointed over his shoulder and fired, but judging from the state of the boy he had found his mark just fine. He had just tucked his gun back in when Arthur came storming in.

He walked over Maurice's body and curled his fingers in a beckoning motion. “Let's go, Sebastian. We're done here.”

“You're a bloody sociopath,” Arthur said, watching them go.

Ciel looked over his shoulder and smiled. “What can I say, Sir Arthur, the Queen has one hell of a guard dog.”

 

One Week Earlier:

 

Ciel folded his hands on the desk and stared at the two demons across from him. Sebastian looked uncomfortable, likely for the same reason as Ciel, which was the spider demon sucking blood out from under his fingernails. Claude seemed unaware of their eyes on him until he looked up, finger in his mouth, and glanced between them. He narrowed his eyes. 

“What?” 

“You are repulsive,” Ciel said.

Claude cleaned his last finger of blood, though he looked slightly abashed. “It's delicious.”

Ciel grimaced and turned his attention to the only other person in the room he could tolerate. “So, Alois was alone?”

“Foolishly, yes. Claude dispatched him with ease.”

“Is he alive?” He tried to look indifferent to the answer, in spite of his churning stomach. He didn't want to be responsible for Alois' death a second time.

Claude spoke up. “I was going to take his head off when one of his people showed up, and the two of them left. It would seem they weren't prepared to take on two demons just yet.”

“I should have known Grell wouldn't be far behind him,” Sebastian said.

“Grell?”

“Yes the pretty little red-headed thing that's always retrieving Alois from harm's way.”

Ciel bristled and sat his tea cup down harder than he intended, rattling the porcelain saucer. “Oh so he's pretty now, is he?”

Claude ended the discussion with, “This man wasn't a red-head. He had short, dark hair and a scythe in the shape of pruning shears that I can only imagine he stores in his ass whenever he's not using it.”

Sebastian muffled his laughter in a cough but Ciel just glared at them both. “They probably returned to the shinigami realm. Next time we have them, we crush them. Understood?”

The demons voiced their assent, stood, and bowed. Claude took his leave and left the two of them alone. For the amount of blood he had cleaned away, not much of it could have been his judging from his lack of torn clothes or rumpled hair. Ciel pushed his empty teacup away and turned his attention to his butler. He found Sebastian's eyes already fixed on him.

“I hate this waiting game. I want to finish this,” Ciel said.

In a blur Sebastian was beside him and strong fingers were kneading the tension out of his shoulders. “It will be over soon, I feel sure.”

Ciel considered what this being over would entail. Either they would slaughter the reapers and become targets for a whole race of demigods, or the reapers would succeed and he would lose his last tie to both his father and Sebastian. There was no good outcome, only bad and worse. He reached back to take Sebastian's hand. He, too, felt sure their battle was coming to an end. He just didn't know what that meant for them. 

“Let's go to bed,” he sighed.

Before his feet met the ground, Sebastian picked him up and carried him out of the study. He shivered and leaned into the demon's chest. It was a bitter cold night. When they reached his bedroom, Sebastian placed him on the bed before kindling the fire. Ciel's lips tilted up as he watched the firelight dance on Sebastian's white skin. It was strange to think back to a time when the man made him nervous, when he didn't trust him. He thought of a sunny afternoon, dancing with Sebastian to no music. That had been the first time he let a small piece of his guard slip and after that the rest just came tumbling down.

Sebastian came over and knelt in front of him. He made to undress to Ciel, only to pause with his hands on Ciel's chest. He looked down, his eyelashes casting shadows on his face in the pale orange light. Ciel put a hand under his chin and tilted his head up to make the demon look at him. “Sebastian?”

His butler did not speak. He only wrapped his arms around Ciel and pulled him close. Ciel stroked his hair and stared down at him with increasing worry. It wasn't like Sebastian to just melt into his arms, it was usually the other way around. Yet there he was on his knees, head against Ciel's abdomen, eyes closed. Ciel's stomach flipped and not in a good way. As much as it tugged at his heartstrings there was something wrong with Sebastian's sudden display of weakness. 

The morning found them tangled and naked, the fire dying, but plenty warmed by the blankets and the heat of the other's body. Ciel watched the demon sleep. If possible Sebastian was even more beautiful when he was asleep, with his bangs in his face and his lips parted as his bare chest rose and fell. Ciel tucked one of the longer locks of his hair behind his ear. Last night Sebastian had taken him like it was the first and the last time, had worshiped his body like a holy sanctum. Sebastian had made love to him. It had been amazing but now the disparity and passion of the act only deepened Ciel's fear for what was coming.

(((())))

Two weeks of mounting paranoia passed. There had been no sign of the reapers but he couldn't believe no news was good news. They were planning something, he was sure of it. He began the last day of the second week on not a single minute of sleep. His mind raced too fast for him to relax, and every uncertain moment felt too precious to waste on sleep. 

He was face down, half conscious on the dining table when Sebastian brought him his post after breakfast. The envelope he saw peeking out of the stack perked him up faster than a whole cup of sugar. He recognized the most important piece at once and listened eagerly as the demon read aloud to him. For God's sake, he needed something to take his mind off this war being waged over his father's soul. He could think of no better distraction than an assignment from her Majesty. He was on his feet before Sebastian had finished reading, earning an inquisitive raising of Sebastian's eyebrows.

“I need to get out of this manor for awhile, this is the perfect opportunity,” he said to answer the demon's unspoken question.

“Very well, young master. I'll ready the carriage and we will find out what this young man has to say for himself.”

 

Present:

 

William stamped his last file for the evening and locked his office up tight. It had not been easy to earn his own office so quickly, but hard work paid off. He made his way down the hall and lingered in front of a certain door. There was nothing to be gained from torturing himself, from reminding himself of the last human emotion he couldn't shake, but he found himself entering the bullpen for the Retrieval Division all the same.

“You're here late,” he said.

Grell pushed his glasses into his hair and rubbed his eyes. “I've been gathering as much information on this case as possible but there isn't much about it I don't already know. We practically raised the kid.”

William didn't comment. The night he tracked Alois down after seeing that he never clocked out, it had hit home the lengths he may have to go to reclaim Vincent Phantomhive's soul. Alois had been beaten half to death by a demon and might not have lived to tell about it if William hadn't pieced together where he had gone. Ciel would protect that ring with his life and there was no telling what measures might have to be taken to get it back. Guilt rose in the back of Will's throat with a taste as sour as bile. If he hadn't allowed the Phantomhives to adopt him, Ciel wouldn't be in the middle of this at all.

He eyed the vase of dead roses on Grell's desk. “I hear Michaelis got a hold of you outside of Undertaker's.”

Grell nodded. He didn't say anything, but there wasn't much to say. Nothing had changed since their encounter when they got their memories back. William still felt a pang of longing every time he saw Grell, but he also couldn't ruin a career that he had to live with for years, maybe eternity. He tugged the tie from Grell's hair and the other reaper turned toward him. Grell's hair fell down his back, wavy from being braided all day.

For all their disagreements, Grell was the only person he knew to talk to, and the only one who wouldn't judge him. “I don't want to have to hurt him. He's been through enough.”

“I know. I wish we could walk away from this case, it's just a tiny piece of a soul.”

William began to section his hair out. “The Management Division would never allow that, not with a demon and a Faustian contract involved. It's as much a matter of pride as it is anything else.”

“Can't blame a girl for dreaming,” Grell said, picking away at the chipped polish on his fingers.

“Not at all. I wish for the same thing.”

They lapsed into a familiar, comfortable silence as William braided his old friend's hair. Grell was far more than a friend but they both knew this was the end of the line for them. For what had to be the hundredth time since he regained his memories, William wished he would have manned up when he was still alive. Grell had been right there for years, waiting for him, and now that Will wanted him he was permanently out of his reach. Their sworn duties in this afterlife created too high an obstacle for their already shaky relationship to overcome. He sighed as he replaced the tie at the end of Grell's braid. Even to his own ears his reasons sounded like excuses. 

“What is your schedule for tomorrow?” Grell asked.

“The same as yours, I imagine.”

They both stared down at the assignment on his desk. The same one had been issued to both of them along with Alois and William's partner, Ronald. Tomorrow they were to penetrate Phantomhive manor and bring the ring back to Dispatch. All demons were to be exterminated, and human casualties were to be avoided if possible but not at the cost of failing their assignment. Grell closed the file and stood, only to embrace William tightly. 

“I can't,” he whispered.

William pressed his forehead against Grell's. “We must.”


	24. Monochrome No Kiss

The coldest day of the year brought with it the inevitable. Ciel was standing at his bedroom window watching last daylight fade, and he never could have explained how, but when Sebastian walked in he knew what he would say. The afternoon had been too quiet. He checked his gun and found it fully loaded. Sebastian came to his side, staring into the woods. He was likely seeing what Ciel couldn't. He could see the immortal beings out there, drawing ever closer.

“It's time,” Sebastian said.

“I know.”

Ciel heard a gunshot and closed his eye. The servants didn't stand a chance, but they wouldn't back down from their duty to protect the manor. He left the room with Sebastian close behind him. “Mother?”

“Received a spontaneous call from an old friend to have dinner, as you requested. She is far out of harm's way.”

“Good. She doesn't need to know the true significance of this ring, I won't let her lose her husband twice.”

They stopped in the main hall before the great doors that led to the grounds. Ciel looked over, and Sebastian looked back with a solemn smile. In those deep red eyes he saw his months of pain and confusion, but in them he saw love, too. He wondered if Sebastian saw the same thing in him, if the demon knew his love was reciprocated. Surely he did. He knew everything. Ciel pulled Sebastian down to him and kissed him long and hard. It felt like hello, but tasted of a bittersweet goodbye.

Sebastian opened the door and they emerged into the frigid air. “I do wish you would stay inside where it's safe.”

“Nowhere is safe now.”

“That doesn't mean you have to throw yourself in harm's way.”

“That's exactly what I must do. Enough people have died because of me, it's time for this to end.”

“I'm glad you agree!”

They looked up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. A man who was unmistakably a reaper stood at the edge of the roof, leaning on a red machine of some kind. He flipped his dirty blond hair and waved. Sebastian's brows knitted together in an expression that seemed more offended than concerned. “You're the best they could do? A college aged boy with a push power?”

“Don't underestimate me just because I look good for my age. Besides, I've got backup.” The reaper winked and jumped from the roof but Sebastian met him halfway with no regard to the spinning blades of his scythe. 

Ciel tried to get a clear shot but they were moving too fast. A bullet wouldn't hurt either of them but it might put that ridiculous scythe out of commission. He took a step back, trying to find an opening, only to collide with something behind him. He whirled around with his finger on the trigger but his gun went flying out of his hand before he could get a shot off. There was a blur of purple and platinum, then he was on the ground. 

Damn, he thought. How did two reapers already get past the defenses? What does that mean for the servants? He could only afford to waste a second worrying about them, for the next moment brought a blade larger than his head hurtling toward him. He had little room to move but he rolled just enough to the side for the scythe to collide with the stone. Alois had it raised again before Ciel could process the movement. Ciel hissed in frustration; the spoiled tart had gotten better since the last time they fought. 

“Why is this stupid ring more important than your life?” Alois asked, punctuating his question with a slap across the face when Ciel tried to get up.

“You wouldn't understand.”

Alois leaned down until his nose brushed Ciel's. “Try me.”

“I don't have to. I already know you wouldn't understand an act of love, because no one has ever loved you.”

It was below the belt, but his words hit just where he wanted them to. Alois flew into a fit of rage. His fighting tactics slipped as his emotions got the best of him, hands going around Ciel's throat instead of using his scythe. Ciel gasped for breath, smiling. This was too easy. He slid his hand to the side until it encountered the business end of a sharp blade. He moved just a bit further down to grasp the handle. 

“Why do you hate me so much?” Alois demanded, tears streaming down his cheeks. “All those years you were alone, that time you spent recovering after you were sold off to those cultist freaks, I was right here! Why didn't you want me?”

Ciel established a firm grasp on the scythe, feeling tears drip on to his face. They were oddly warm against his winter kissed skin. “You're pathetic, Alois Trancy.”

He saw the boy's inhuman green eyes widen when he saw the glint of his own blade in his peripheral vision. Ciel felt a pang of sympathy for his fellow orphan. He had grieved this young man, had wished he could go back and be kinder to him, but the person that had wished for that died with his father. He no longer had room for such feelings in his heart. Alois' anguished cry for mercy rang out in his ears long after he embedded the scythe in the reaper's side.

Alois rolled to the side, screaming with pain. The long blade was between his ribs and had likely punctured at least one vital organ. Ciel reversed their positions to pin the taller boy down. He pulled the scythe back out and readied it for a fatal blow. However repulsive he found Alois, he had nothing to gain from watching the boy suffer a slow death. He held it over his head, arms shaking in their attempt to support the heavy weapon.

“I taught you better than that,” said a voice he knew all too well, and the scythe was pulled from his hands.

He looked up at William T. Spears in the same suit as always, but now with what appeared to be pruning shears in his hand. He was unexpectedly ashamed. He didn't know Mr. Spears had become a reaper, not that it came as a surprise after seeing Grell. Alois was unconscious or dead, his blood running down the stairs. Ciel stood up from his limp form to face the man who had saved him in a way. He had protected him from anyone who wished him ill after he escaped his tormentors, and it was Mr. Spears who had united him with his family.

“It's over, Phantomhive. Let's end this before anyone else is hurt.”

Ciel glanced behind him, but Sebastian was no longer fighting with the other reaper. “Anyone else?”

“Your human staff have been restrained but they are intact. Grell took care of your pest problem in the woods, and I don't expect Sebastian to hold his own for very long against both him and Mr. Knox.”

Ciel huffed out a humorless laugh. He had convinced himself they stood a chance against four death gods, and he had never made it off the manor's stairs. He wrapped one hand protectively around the other. “You know I can't just hand this over. If you thought it would be that easy, you would have come alone.”

“Indeed. However, I did not. I know there is only one way you will give that to us willingly. Grell?”

Grell came up the stairs holding one of Sebastian's arms, the other one held by the younger reaper. Sebastian's clothes were torn and bloody, and his face didn't tell a much kinder story. Rage boiled Ciel's blood but he knew if his demon wasn't a match for two reapers then he certainly wasn't. He clenched his hand around his ring and glared at Mr. Spears.

“Coward,” he spat.

“I devised this plan of action so you didn't have to be hurt. It's against our code to threaten a human life in order to gain your compliance, so your mother was ruled out, but Mr. Michaelis has no such immunity.”

He stared into his butler's eyes. They were sorrowful and apologetic which only hurt worse. Typical Sebastian, blaming himself for failing in a hopeless battle. Ciel started to go to him but Mr. Spears' scythe extended out to block his path. He ground his teeth in frustration, as he knew he was in check. There were no moves left that wouldn't put him in a perilous situation.

“Give us the ring at the soul held captive there, and Sebastian will be released from this world back into his own. Fight and we kill him. Do decide quickly, please, I detest overtime.”

William's knights had his king. He grasped his ring between his thumb and forefinger. “Let me say goodbye, and it's all yours.”

“Try anything and he's dead,” Grell said. He had been looking especially murderous since he saw Alois sprawled in front of the door.

The scythe retracted, and Ciel walked over to Sebastian. The demon inclined his head the best he was able in his compromising position. “Forgive me, my lord.”

“Shush,” Ciel said, taking Sebastian's face in his hands.

The reapers dropped him and he fell to his knees. Grell kept his chainsaw at the back of Sebastian's neck but in those seconds there was no one else in the world except a young man and his butler. Ciel didn't know he was trembling until Sebastian began to rub his back soothingly. He cleared his throat and tried to hold his tears back. If this was goodbye, he wouldn't be saying it like some blubbering Alois Trancy type. He leaned back to stare at the face he had come to dearly love.

Sebastian pulled his eye patch away and kissed the scar tissue beneath. “Thank you, Ciel.”

The sound of his first name coming from Sebastian's lips allowed a single tear to escape. “For what?”

“You have given my eternity meaning. I vow by all that I am and on my love for you, I will never forget you.”

“Sebastian,” he choked, feeling more tears burn their way down his face as he slid his ring off. “I love you too.”

He let the ring clatter down the stairs and bathed in the sight of his demon before kissing him. He wanted that smile to be his last memory of Sebastian, to send him off with a kiss that said everything those fickle three words could not. That clichéd expression came no where close to summarizing his feelings for this insufferable man. Sebastian was more than his lover. He was his protector, his teacher, his anchor in the churning, storm riddled sea that was his life. He feared those waters would carry him away without Sebastian at his side.

Over Sebastian's shoulder he saw William holding the ring with the end of his pruners, and Grell raising his chainsaw. Checkmate. He watched, helpless, as the ring shattered in all directions. A radiant blue light surged between the two reapers. Ciel smiled sadly, watching the piece of his father's soul disappear between their scythes. Vincent could rest now.

He sat back and found the demon's eyes closed. “Sebastian?” He was distantly aware of Grell lifting Alois and following the other two reapers through a portal that opened at the bottom of the stairs. He could only scream in vain at a man who wasn't coming back. “Sebastian!”

The man he held was dead weight. When he could no longer support it, he lowered Sebastian to the ground. There was the faintest of glows under the demon's skin, red and orange like the embers in a fireplace. Ciel had never known what it looked like for a demon to fade from a human body. He didn't want to but he couldn't look away as that light dwindled into nothingness. Staring at the empty shell of his lover, he learned there was a state of grief too profound to cry for. 

He must have stayed that way a long time. The servants came to check on him, by which time Sebastian had flaked away into ash and blown into the wind. No, not Sebastian, Ciel reminded himself. Just an empty body. He would rather think of Sebastian alive and forever lost to him rather than gone altogether. His servants tentatively approached him where he sat on his knees. They had been pressed to the stone for a quite awhile, and he could no longer feel them. He could no longer feel much of anything.

Many arms encircled him. Soon he heard Finnian and Mey-Rin's sobs over Baldo's quiet tears, and knew Tanaka to be holding them all in pained silence. He could not return their embraces, only stare down at the pin in his hands that he had taken from Sebastian's lapel. Part of him had been expecting it to show some sign that Sebastian had held on to this world in the same way as Vincent but no sign ever came. Sebastian was gone.

Tanaka helped him to his feet. As he did, a bloodied figure made his way up the stairs. Ciel recognized the torn trousers and cracked glasses but he still couldn't find it within himself to speak. Instead he held the door open in silent invitation. Claude was too exhausted to look surprised, and stumbled into the manor with a grateful wave of his hand.

It was well past midnight and stretching into the early hours of morning when Ciel placed the silver pin on his bedstand. He stared at it until his eyes were heavy, and for the first night since Sebastian had returned, he slept alone.

(((())))  
((()))

“There is no color to our meeting, it blows through in monochrome  
I go where your cool fingers beckon me  
I am like troublesome ice after the melt  
You gently scoop me up to your mouth and play with my upper lip  
Still, I search for a form of love  
The dry eyes that shape the present rather than a distant time  
Want to end like this, cloaked  
But the night ignores that wish and brings morning  
With your gentle, passionate, and dastardly kiss  
Paint this final night  
The moon illuminates us.”


	25. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have said this before, but I can't say enough times how grateful I am for all the love and support this story has gotten. Seeing your reviews always makes me smile and I'm so lucky to have you guys reading. I have really enjoyed writing this but the story has come full circle and it's time for it to end. My next story will be up soon and I hope I see some of you on the other side (:

Ciel pulled the knot out of his tie for the tenth time. He turned from the full length mirror when there was a knock at the door. “Yes?”

“There has been an important development in your case, master,” Tanaka said, bowing as low as his ailing joints would allow.

“It can be dealt with on another day.”

“Yes, sir.” The steward pulled the door closed and left Ciel alone again.

He threw the tie on the ground in defeat. He had been determined to get ready on his own, today of all days he should have been able to manage it. His navy blue suit was in order but this damn tie would be his undoing. He stared into the mirror, imagining white gloved hands fussing with his slightly crooked shirt collar. Sometimes he still thought about his demon butler. Though he had no photographs, the memory of Sebastian's face was as clear as the first day they met. He sighed. This was the worst possible time to be thinking about him.

Part of him wished he had listened to what Tanaka had to say just to distract him from his nerves. He was working a unique case, in the sense that the murders seemed personal. That wouldn't be unusual if they didn't seem personal toward him. Someone was baiting him. Every victim was shot in the head with a different message written in blood at the scene of the crime. Woof, fetch, and other taunts had been left all over London. To say the Queen was concerned was an understatement. 

His butler would have long since had the case cracked by now. He ran his hands through his hair and began to pace his dressing room. He had to put his work aside, he owed Elizabeth that much. There was another knock at the door and he spun irritably on his heel. “What?”

“It's almost time, are you ready?”

He opened the door to find a demon there, just not the one he wanted. “Mostly...no,” he admitted at Claude's disbelieving look.

He stood back and watched Claude walk inside. The man still gave him the creeps and he wouldn't let Claude dress or undress him if his life depended on it, but he was used to having the spider demon around after four years. He froze, staring up at the taller man. Had it really been four years?

“Come here,” Claude said, holding his tie.

Ciel walked over and tilted his head up. The demon, who had been trapped in his human form as a side effect of the reapers' binding magic, no longer seemed like such a giant. He only had five or six inches on Ciel now. Ciel observed him as he knotted his tie and pulled it into place. It had been painful at first, having someone around who reminded him of Sebastian on a daily basis, but he had proved useful. Spiders were pests but at least they ate the smaller bugs.

“I hope you plan to wipe that sullen look off your face before you go out there, you don't want to offend your bride.”

Ciel grunted as the demon began to comb his hair into place. “She'll be fine.”

“If you care so little for her, I know a spot in Italy where no one could ever find us.”

“Ugh, how many times am I going to have to turn you down before you give it a rest?”

“I don't know. That was your three hundred and sixth unsuccessful attempt,” Claude said, who was being equally unsuccessful in getting Ciel's hair to lay flat.

“I'll tell you what, if you get me through this day I will give you and Elizabeth permission to start a club for people whose love I don't reciprocate.”

Claude laughed, an oddly human sound for the psychopath. “It's not easy to burn someone who was born in Hell but you never cease to impress me.”

The taller man stood back and appraised his work. At his nod of acceptance, Ciel took a deep breath. No more stalling. He had known long ago this day was coming. Claude held the door and Ciel began the nerve wracking walk to the garden. He took his place at the altar, much to the smiling and sniffling of his mother. 

The spring breeze blew loose petals from the garden across the aisle. In their wake was an angel in white. Elizabeth had grown into a striking woman, a wife to be proud of even if Ciel's love for her was platonic. Her face broke into a smile as she looked at him through her veil. Ciel smiled back, to be respectful if nothing else. He found he could not be truly happy. He had not smiled with real joy in years. Four of them, to be exact.

He extended his hand for his bride to take. Elizabeth reached out, emerald nails peeking out through her sheer gloves. Her fingers fell just shy of Ciel's. Confused, he stretched further to take her hand but she was falling away. Then he realized his angel had been painted red. The side of her dress was crimson and her eyes were wide with terror. Only then did he hear the screams, and did his own fear take hold.

“Lizzie...”

She collapsed back onto the pathway they used for the aisle. Blood began to cover the pale stones. Before the next shot rang out, Ciel yelled for everyone to get down and threw himself on top of his fiance. The wedding ceremony dissolved into chaos. People were kicking him in their attempts to flee, the servants were running to get their weapons, but he was as immobile as a rock atop Elizabeth. If he couldn't die for the person he loved, he supposed dying for the person who loved him was just as well.

“Hold on,” he said to her.

Her eyes were closed but she was breathing. On closer inspection, he found that she had been shot in the shoulder. She was in pain but she would be alright. He looked around but there was no sign of the sniper. His vision turned black and he started to panic when he realized it was obscured by a black suit, and the figure in front of him was Claude. The demon reached to pick him up but he swatted him away.

“Leave me, get her to safety.”

Honey colored eyes narrowed. “I don't have to take your orders, you know.”

“Claude, please.”

Claude softened, just as Ciel expected. He took off his glasses and put them in his jacket pocket. Ciel knew that meant his bride would be safe. When the glasses came off, Claude was ready to do some damage. Ciel leaned away to let him lift Lizzy from the pool of blood that had gathered beneath her. Their eyes met and Ciel nodded. Claude didn't seem happy with the arrangement, but he nodded back and made a run for it, Lizzy's small body looking like a doll in his arms. Ciel watched them go with his heart racing, fueled with adrenaline. Someone had either just tried to kill him or tried to kill his fiance to get to him. One of those had to be the case, and regardless the shooter was going to pay.

The case...Ciel snarled and got to his feet. Of course. This shooting had been personal, which led him to the likely conclusion that whoever shot Lizzy was the same person he had been searching for over the past several months. He was relieved to find the garden empty of anyone living or dead. The staff must have taken his mother by force, as he knew she wouldn't have left by choice. He felt a rush of gratitude for the bumbling idiots he called his servants.

“Come get me you bastard!” he yelled to the garden that seemed to mock him, bathed in cheerful sunshine. He hoped to lure them out of hiding and get them taken out by one of the servants who had reached their posts by now.

Get him, they did. Ciel never saw him coming.

 

Grell yawned, tying his hair into a high ponytail. He slapped on some false lashes and called it a day. He was too tired for a full face of makeup and he only had to work a half shift today anyway. Pulling on his jacket as he walked, he followed the scent of fresh baked biscuits until he reached the small kitchen. He leaned in the doorway until Undertaker turned around and noticed him. The former reaper's hair was pushed out of his eyes to reveal his striking face, a sight Grell never tired of.

“Mornin' my pretty,” Undertaker greeted, piling the biscuits on a plate.

“Afternoon is more like it.”

Undertaker gave him a sheepish grin. “I knew you didn't have to work until late and ya looked so cute sleeping, I couldn't wake you.”

“I know, you find nothing more endearing than me sleeping in a coffin.” Grell rolled his eyes and nibbled on a warm biscuit.

“I could always get a bigger coffin. They're not supposed to fit two people, but I bet I can make something work.”

Grell sighed but couldn't muster any true frustration. “Sweetie, how many times have I told you I'm not moving in with you?”

“Not enough to convince me that you don't want to.”

Grell sat on the edge of the desk in the main room of the shop as the Undertaker sat in his chair. He made a sweeping motion around the room with a glossy red fingernail. “You want me to move in to a shop, this isn't even a house. You sleep in an upright coffin and all you know how to cook is bone shaped biscuits. I'm a lady ergo I have needs.”

“But I love me shop!”

The pout on Undertaker's face was just too cute to resist. Grell leaned over the desk and gave him a quick kiss before plucking a handful of biscuits to take to work with him. “And I love you, which is why I already spend so much time at this dusty old rat trap.”

He left the shop and opened a gateway to his home realm. Undertaker had also tried convincing him to become a desterter like him, to renounce his duties as a grim reaper, but Grell needed a sense of purpose. He wasn't going to shine coffins and clean house all day. Having all that free time with his lover sounded great but he would go mad (read: madder) with such a rigid routine every day. He landed in front of Dispatch and straightened the red rose he had pinned to his jacket. The years had only served to make him more feminine than he already was, and the newcomers usually couldn't figure out which gender he was. He liked that.

Alois waved when they passed each other in the hall, giving Grell a rush of nostalgia. He missed working with that little brat. The staffing department had swapped their partners after the assignment at Phantomhive manor, believing Grell was too attached to the child to prioritize his job over Alois. He couldn't argue the truth in that.

“You're late.”

Grell walked by and stuck a biscuit in his partner's mouth. “You're grumpy.”

William chewed reluctantly. Even as his eyebrows drew together in irritation, he couldn't keep the fondness out of his eyes. Not much had changed between them. They both knew what was there, and Grell knew he couldn't trust William to man up enough to admit his feelings. He had someone who loved and accepted him for everything he was. His bitterness with his partner had dissolved over time and now he just wished William could find someone who made him happy. Sometimes his heart rate would pick up when William was too close, reminding him what lurked under the surface of their professional relationship, but he stomped out that flame every time it started to flicker.

He sat down on his side of their shared office and opened his ledger. Immediately, all his previous thoughts were wiped from his mind as he stared at his assignment. “Will.”

The brunette reaper walked up behind him to look over his shoulder. His sharp intake of breath was the only reaction he gave but it was enough for Grell to know they were looking at the same thing. They tore their eyes from the ledger to look at each other. Grell slammed the ledger shut and pushed it away, but he knew if he opened it Ciel's name would still be staring back at him.

 

Ciel awoke with a groan. His whole body ached. His back and head hurt worse of all, making him almost wish he was unconscious again. He opened his eye, trying to discern what had happened. Someone had shot Lizzy, and he sent Claude away with her. Then what happened? Come on, think, he demanded of himself. He hurt too badly to move but he analyzed the room the best he could by glancing around. What he saw made his blood run cold.

“No,” he gasped, mouth dry and tongue feeling too thick in his mouth.

The round chamber was full of empty cages. They had not changed since his last visit to this room. He knew if looked down, he would be on a slab of solid stone. He moved his fingers and felt bile rise in his throat when they encountered cool, sticky blood. A quick analysis of his body made him aware of the gunshot wound in his side. It seemed to be little more than a graze, but it had seeped blood onto the slab and the floor below. He shivered and folded his arms over his bare chest. He lay fully exposed save for a white sheet across his waist. 

“Look who's awake.”

A fair faced man stood next to him. He possessed long, flaxen hair and crystalline blue eyes. The only thing familiar about him was his school uniform topped with a red jacket. Ciel spoke to buy himself time while he evaluated the situation. “What do you want with me?”

“I've brought you here to make you pay.”

Ciel's eye traveled the room he had been held captive in so long ago. “I didn't think you brought me here to buy me a nice dinner.”

He arched from the table, mouth open in a silent scream as the man dug his finger into the wound on his side. He fell back on the stone, trembling. The man's words had a strange echoing effect when he spoke next. “I promised Maurice I would avenge him. I've been trying since the day he died, but you're always protected. I finally found an opening.”

“You've been stalking me for four years? I don't know if I should be appalled or flattered.”

“You're pure evil,” the man said, eyes sparkling.

“I didn't shoot an innocent woman.”

“She should have died, then maybe you would understand the way I've suffered because of you!” The man slammed his hands down, the tears in his eyes spilling onto his face. Up close Ciel found it easier to connect the dots. Going by his attire and the badges on his jacket, this man was in his last year at Weston College. The red jacket meant he belonged to the house of the Scarlet Fox, leaving one option for who he was.

“Redmond, isn't it?” At the involuntary tilt of the man's head, Ciel knew he was right. “You were Maurice's lover. I read about you in his file, how you tried to take the fall for him but the Yard wouldn't let you because they knew you were simply a desperate, lovestruck fool.”

“What would you know about losing someone?” Redmond shouted.

More than you would think. “He was a violent criminal. I was fulfilling my duty.”

A fury like nothing Ciel had seen before consumed Redmond, and right then he knew he would die. He was in pain and weak from blood loss. He remembered from when he escaped this building that he would never make it out of the winding halls before his captor caught up to him. As Redmond loaded a pistol Ciel thought of everyone back at Phantomhive manor. Elizabeth had nearly died for this man to get his revenge. Would he go back after her for a final piece of closure? The beast of a thought sunk its teeth deep into Ciel, and he started panicking. 

If anyone knew where he had been taken then he would have been rescued by now, so no one knew what was going on yet. They were probably all worried and scared which gave Redmond the upper hand. I have to stop him, Ciel realized as he watched Redmond pull the hammer back on the gun. His renewed urgency to live gave him strength but not nearly enough to get up and fight.

“Please,” he choked, unaware he was speaking aloud. “Someone...end him. Help me protect my family, I'll do anything.”

“Anything, you say?”

He opened his eye expecting Redmond but no one was there. Nothing was there at all. The room had faded to black and strange shapes seemed to be drifting down from the ceiling. Was this death? He didn't think so since he was still afraid for the people in danger because of him, and death was supposed to be peaceful. He wanted to look for the source of the voice but he was too weak to lift his head.

“Yes, anything. Who are you?”

In the distance, he saw a great black raven. Its beak was closed but it seemed to be talking to him. “You've forgotten me already, I'm wounded.”

The voice was too distorted for Ciel to identify it. He stared into the bird's red eyes and thought back to a night that felt like a lifetime ago. His father's voice reached him across the barrier of many years passed. Take thy beak from out my heart, and thy form from off my door...Quoth the raven “Nevermore.” There was another memory, another face just out of his reach. As the raven continued to somehow speak to him he was filled with peace and happiness. Perhaps death had come, after all. The raven's voice was becoming clearer and it was making him forget his pain, forget his fears. Feathers were blanketing his body.

“If your heart and soul can be mine and mine alone, I can protect everyone you hold dear for as long as we both wish to keep our contract. Understand what's truly lost can never be regained. If you give me your heart I shall keep it until the day you no longer wish to have me at your side.”

Ciel reached out for the shadowy bird. “I gave that to you long ago, demon.”

“Command me to be yours, and I shall be.”

“Accept my heart and soul in exchange for yours. Be my servant until I die, and only then shall you follow me to Hell.”

The bird was gone. The shadows were giving way to the bright room. Ciel's eye burned, vision going blurry. When it returned Redmond's body was sprawled on the marble floor. Standing over him was a black butler with glowing red eyes. Ciel tried to sit up and reach out but there was already strong arms wrapped around him, lifting him from the stone table. The movement brought more pain than he could give voice to but he forgot it all as he stared at the devil who now owned his heart, who had always owned it.

Soft lips pressed against his forehead. “My little lord.”

Ciel smiled. “Sebastian.”


End file.
